


Can beauty come out of ashes?

by GregLestradeOwnsMyuwus



Series: Of crackers, hedgehogs, policemen and doctors [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF John Watson, Backstory, Bisexual Greg Lestrade, Bottom John Watson, Caring Greg Lestrade, Daddy Greg Lestrade, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Developing Relationship, Drunk Greg Lestrade, Friends to Lovers, Gay John Watson, Greg Lestrade Flirts, Greg Lestrade Has An Authority Kink, Greg Lestrade Has Issues, Greg Lestrade Is A Giggly Drunk, Greg Lestrade is a Good Boyfriend, John Watson Has A Daddy Kink, John Watson Has Feelings, John Watson Has Issues, John Watson Has PTSD, John Watson is a Good Boyfriend, M/M, Military Backstory, Mutual Pining, Silver Fox Greg Lestrade, Slow Burn, Sweet Greg Lestrade, Top Greg Lestrade, non Canon, papa lestrade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:35:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 35,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27415108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GregLestradeOwnsMyuwus/pseuds/GregLestradeOwnsMyuwus
Summary: Can Greg and John build a relationship out of the broken pieces and ashes of their past? Or will they burn again?
Relationships: Greg Lestrade/John Watson, John Watson & Sherlock Holmes, Johnstrade - Relationship, Lestrade/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & Greg Lestrade
Series: Of crackers, hedgehogs, policemen and doctors [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018699
Comments: 30
Kudos: 57





	1. Lestrade makes the call

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!! *waves in digital* I'm really excited to share my first fanfiction with you lot here. This is something that began as a bit of fun for my friends and I to read but it got to the point where it's now here. I'm really trying to develop a good story line here so comments and suggestions are much appreciated :). Side note: this fic has nothing to do with Celine Dion despite the title.

Greg downed another shot, drowning out the hurt through the burning sensation of the alcohol. As the liquid burnt all the way down his throat, Lestrade’s phone buzzed on the counter.

_Fuckin Jenny._

It didn’t take a Sherlock to deduce that much. He had stormed out of the flat again after catching his wife in bed with another much more vigorous man unabashedly going at her. He didn’t even stay to hear her explanation nor her sweet melodies. This wasn’t the first time Jenny had cheated on him and it wasn’t going to be the last time either.

Any wiser man would’ve broken the marriage off by now or at least threatened a divorce—but it is a well known fact that Greg Lestrade was not a man to be considered “wiser” than most. Greg was a man that let people nudge him along and this had caused him to let Jenny pull him along on a string for far too long. His good friend, John Watson’s, words rang out in his head.

_Greg, you need a divorce. Or a therapist if not; but I’m not sure who is the mental one in this relationship._

Greg had hit rock bottom. Jenny sleeping with men she found online and on Tinder made Greg worry about diseases more than it pissed him off. But catching her going at it with his ex was too much for him. She wasn’t just playing anymore; she was hurting him. Distraught and on his 4th shot, Lestrade decided to call the one bloke who had some sense in him.

“Greg? Where are you? And what are you doing calling me at this hour?” The voice on the other end of the line sounded irritated, like Greg had interrupted something.

“I need you here. I need some brain with me tonight. Could you please come down here? I’ll text you the address.”

Both sides knew Greg wasn’t asking. He was begging. As much as Greg was not an alpha, he didn’t beg. Especially not a man. On the other end, John sighed and agreed. Even if this meant stopping his wonderful self exploration. It was a rare chance that Sherlock wasn’t around to walk in on him. In fact, tonight John wasn’t quite sure where Sherlock had slinked off to.

Throwing on some trousers and a sweater, John hailed a taxi and arrived at the bar that Greg had shared with him. Hopefully this was the right place. The spelling was so off that the cab driver had to look it up before being able to make an educated guess. John had spent enough time around Sherlock to have picked up on some of the art of deduction and John had deduced that Greg was officially drunk.

Upon entrance, John was greeted with a sloppy Lestrade hug that surprised him mostly. Lestrade wasn’t a hugger to say the least. The bartender nodded to John, as if to say enjoy. A quick sweep around the area presented to John the deduction that he had wandered into a gay bar. While John had no qualms about this, considering he was not one to shy away from these sorts of places, he did have to wonder however why the detective inspector would be here of all places.

“John thank god you’re here. I need to pick that brain of yours so please show me you’re more useful than Sherlock claims you are not.” John patted the larger man on the back, not really knowing what was going on.

“Alright Greg, I’m here now. Let’s go somewhere to talk now shall we?” The detective inspector was more than happy to oblige and he let himself be pulled by the smaller man to a cab outside. John was surprised that the cabbie was still out here waiting for him.

“You’re still here?”

“You looked like the type of man that was picking up someone piss drunk.” The cabbie looked over into the back seat at a barely conscious Lestrade curling up against John. The cabbie’s thoughts could honestly be forgiven if one had been able to see the scene too.

“That’s yours? Mate good luck tomorrow to him. Hope you know how to nurse a hangover.” The cabbie gave his unsolicited remarks. John was caught in quite a shock.

“Erm no sorry. He’s not my,” John’s words cut off abruptly as he mentally prepared himself to say it. Not that it was a big deal, John never bothered hiding his sexuality considering they were in London. “He’s actually not my boyfriend. We’re friends but not like that. I assume he’s just had a little too much to drink and it looks like I’ll have to drag him home tonight.”

“NO!”

John and the cabbie exchanged looks at each other with the cabbie’s eyebrow raised slightly higher than John’s. Now, John couldn’t agree more with Greg but he lived with Sherlock. Greg lived with—what was her name? Jane? Jess? Some J thing, John wasn’t sure.

“Um, alright 221B Baker Street it is then.” Greg giggled slightly and nodded before passing out cold. Something was wrong. Like seriously wrong if it involved Lestrade giggling drunk. Even a remotely happy Lestrade was a cause for concern. John was grateful the cabbie shut up the whole way and didn’t try to preach about Redemption and Hell for The Homos.

Trying not to trip over the policeman, John dragged Greg up the stairs and kicked the door of the flat open at the top of the landing and pulled him into John's bedroom. Only after the soldier had done this did he think of the resulting consequences. If his friend were to spend the night in his bed, where would he sleep? Sherlock's bed was out of the question—John was absolutely not prepared to wake up finding out that he had spent a night on, in or with an experiment that Shelock was conducting. John looked over at the man passed out cold on his bed. It has been a while since he's had a scene like this in his bed, though it should be mentioned that this was because John was usually the one asleep in another man's bed. A few quick calculations later and John decided that he could risk it with the detective inspector. If all else fails he could say that Greg was the one who crawled in and that could make for a good laugh.

John went about the normal nightly routine that a conscious, non drunk person would do after having been woken up by a drunk person in the middle of the night, which mostly involves changing back into nightwear. Here, John was presented with another dilemma. How much nightwear was he supposed to wear? Again, in normal circumstances when he was to share a bed with another man he (and the other fellow) would usually not have been wearing anything. In any other circumstances John would’ve been at least wearing a pair of pants and maybe an old ratty t shirt. John decided to go with the latter and climbed into bed with Greg, albeit facing away from the man.

John screwed his eyes shut and attempted sleep; but this went largely in vain considering he had unfinished business from before Greg’s emergency call. It’s amazing that bloke could even remember John’s number in that state. John wiggled about in bed and tried changing his position several times but as any man can tell you, that did nothing for his southern pressure. Eventually he somehow managed to drift off with much difficulty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Cleaned up the formatting and the code to make reading the work a little bit easier. Special shout out to [ScribblesOnPebbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribblesOnPebbles/pseuds/ScribblesOnPebbles) for the tips on making the fic more digestible! Hope this contributes to the enjoyment of reading!


	2. The Morning After

The next morning, it was the soft breath that woke John up. His erection still hadn’t been resolved but that could be arranged later. The memories of last night came flooding back again and John suddenly realised that the breathing belonged to Greg Lestrade whose hands were now wrapped around the small army man. John was highly aware of every curve, crease and bend of Greg’s body pressed into his back. His hand was on the doctor’s waist. If Sherlock walked in at this moment—

The silence of the morning was broken by a coughing fit by Greg who turned away and continued slumbering. Seizing the chance, John creeped out of bed. Partly so that he could prepare breakfast, but partly also to avoid an awkward explanation when either Greg or Sherlock decided to join him in consciousness.

John bustled about the kitchen, cracking and scrambling eggs, buttering toast, cooking bacon and making coffee (mostly for Lestrade as John prided himself in being a true tea drinking, Queen and Country Englishman). As he was cleaning up the pan, John heard stirrings from his room.

"That’ll be Greg," John thought to himself.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell”

"Yea that's Greg." 

John reckoned it was a bad hangover. His suspicions were confirmed by a Lestrade walking out massaging his temples and looking more grumpy than normal. He staggered to the table and sat down, head in his arms.

“Breakfast?” John set a plate and a mug of coffee down in front of Greg, smiling in amusement. Greg glared at him but took the plate of food, grunting in thanks. Greg took a bite out of the eggs cooked in bacon fat and leaned his head back while moaning out loud. John leaned against the kitchen counter and took the sight in. He could get used to this.

"John where did you learn to do this? God bless you and the army if that's where." A hungry and very hung over Lestrade wolfed down the food in front of him and drank the coffee provided. "The nectar of the gods. John you'd make a good wife I tell ya." With that last statement, Greg suddenly remembered everything that happened last night. At least he remembered up to the point where he passed out in a car. What did he say or do last night? Greg couldn't deny that he had always found the doctor rather adorable. But stooping down do Jenny's level didn't mean he was the bigger person in the situation.

"Right. Anyways, did you have something you needed from me last night? After all you did wake me up in the middle of the night." Yes, John was lying through his teeth but it was hardly an appropriate moment to say "Lestrade why did you interrupt me masturbating to thoughts of you" if there was ever one. Greg bit his lower lip and looked down. He looked like a puppy who got caught chewing the carpet.

"Greg why don't you bite my lip," John silently thought. Greg took a deep breath in and looked John in the eyes.

“You’re right.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“I need, no sorry, I want a fucking divorce from Jenny. That slut has gone too far this time.” Greg slammed his cup down on the table, full of rage. John stood there looking surprised. He thought that Greg had always blindly loved his wife even if she did fuck around with everything. Frankly, John was surprised that Greg had even bothered to remember what he had suggested.

“Alright, and while I fully support you in this; I do need to ask though, why did you call me?” Truth be told, Greg didn’t know either. Did he want to tell John to indicate his soon to be singlehood, or did he just need a friend for this? Surely if he could handle murders in a city like London, he could handle breaking off with a woman whom he didn’t even like anymore.

“Would you rather I had rung Sherlock?” Greg finally answered with a sarcastic smirk. John couldn’t help but smile like an idiot.

“Bold of you to assume he’d pick up.” A short, awkward silence ensued between the two. John picked up the crockery and set about washing up.

“Anywho, I do have a mate from the army that ended up becoming a divorce lawyer. In his words ‘why should I go and fuck with lives overseas and risk my own when I could stay here and be paid to do the same’. I bet he’ll get you a mighty fine settlement with Jenny.”

Greg raised his eyebrows, looking slightly concerned. “Right and this is what my tax is funding. Bloody amazing this country.”

No less than an hour later, the two men sat in front of a determined looking divorce lawyer. He had even drafted out a set of divorce papers for Greg.

"Mr Lestrade, are you sure you want nothing out of your ex wife? You're a rare man if I do say so me self."

"Ta. I want nothing from her but for her to get out of my life. The flat's in my name anyways. She'll find a way to survive in London. After all, plenty of drunk tourists around that'll take her offers." It was hard for anyone not to notice the way Greg had spat out the last sentence. John found it rather clear now what had happened between the two. Although, it does go without saying that John had known for quite awhile now. The lawyer, as baffled as he was, had to respect Greg's wishes and truth be told, he was slightly disappointed. Who gives up a chance to rough up a bitch like that?

Greg had suddenly become impatient with wanting to be a free man and after stepping out of the office, he asked for John to accompany him back to his flat to confront Jenny—and quite possibly the man that still hadn't left the bed they shared. With Sherlock having fallen off the radar, John had hardly anything to do and agreed to go with the detective inspector.

The cab ride was silent. Thankfully though for John, he didn't really fancy it when cabbies took it upon themselves to deduce the situation in the backseat. Living with Sherlock meant that besides being madly invasive, John also found their attempts rather sad for lack of a better word. Stepping out of the cab onto the street, John thanked the cabbie and paid the fare. Greg stood rather still on the pavement, looking up at the walk-up in front of him. John approached the policeman slowly and squeezed his shoulder in affirmation.

"Go on mate, I'm right here with you."

At the sound of John's voice, Greg loosened the grip he had on the divorce papers and took a sharp intake of breath. The men walked up to the flat and Greg opened the door. Greg didn't even flinch when he opened the door but John on the other hand was quite literally taken aback by the scene that greeted him. The soldier had been through many kinds of horror, but this one made him turn around and walk away almost like a bot. Greg reached back and easily pulled the doctor back in with him and slammed the door shut.

"Jenny get his head out from between your legs and put a fuckin' robe on. You've got some papers that you're going to sign."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! I'm so sorry for the late post!! This was supposed to be up yesterday but it was my birthday so I was so busy that I totally forgot!!! Anyways I plan to have a schedule of maybe once or twice a week, probably every Friday! Cheers and happy reading! As always comments are welcome and encouraged :)


	3. I'm Captain John Hamish Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers

An angry Lestrade threw the divorce papers at Jenny's face as she shrieked and rushed to cover up. The man underneath her attempted to hide somewhere but how could you hide from a man in his own abode? Through all this, John had just kept his head down respectfully. Frankly speaking he didn't know what the proper course of action was when your friend drags you into his apartment to demand a divorce from his cheating wife who just so happened to be engaging in said cheating at the moment when you entered. John had to admit though, with Lestrade barking out orders like that he was glad to be feeling too embarrassed to be horny. The authority in that man's voice made John feel things. One would wonder why he became an army boy.

"Oh shut up and drop the bullshit Jenny. Its not like you've never been caught by me." Greg smirked at her, pleased with how he managed to make her loose her shit like that. Jenny merely glared at him as she pushed the bundle of papers away and reached for the robe nearby. She motioned the mystery man away and he attempted to sneak off unnoticed, but honestly it was a London flat which meant it wasn't very big. He made eye contact with a towering Lestrade as he attempted to crouch-walk half naked to the next room. His heart sank when he recognised the face staring right at him. He knew this man all too well. The roughness of Lestrade's stubble; the rough way he handled one in bed; every inch of a body well toned from running around London. This was the Greg Lestrade of his past.

"Stop pinning Tom. You left me years back to run off with Craig and now you suddenly turn straight again to fuck my wife? The least you could do now is to jump out the window and die." The man named Tom swallowed and tried to avoid Greg's gaze. If looks could kill...

"Hello to you too Gregory."

"Fuck you. You know it's just Greg. That shit doesn't work on me anymore. Frankly it never did." Jenny attempted to seem dumbfounded. However, Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade wasn't Detective Inspector merely because he could sit around the office and look good for the public (though one has to admit he does do that mightily well). He was no Sherlock Holmes but he could read people.

"Drop the act Jenny. The only whores who can even remotely act are those that we watch online. Though you may outclass them in the number of men you've had, I reckon they still hold the upper hand in acting. You know who you're doing and this wasn't an accident. Now I've had it up to here with you and I just want to be free of you. Now bearing that in mind, sign the fuckin divorce papers that you just pushed off your damned face. Bitch."

Greg practically spat the last word at her face. Jenny was frankly speaking surprised at her husband's attitude. Not that it was unreasonable, not even Jenny was that stupid. She just never thought that her husband had it in him to act as aggressively as this.

"Greg, darling. If you'd had shown this much initiative and aggression in our bed years ago then maybe I would've stuck to you don't you think?"

It should be made known that throughout all this, John had stood behind Lestrade, silently watching the spectacle unfold beyond him. It was a bit much even for an army man. At this moment, Jenny craned her neck and caught eye of the handsome blond behind a towering Lestrade.

"Oh and who might this be? I see you've already found my replacement so pray tell have you been as faithful as I have?"

John couldn't explain it, but suddenly he felt a flash of rage blow through him. Who. The. Fuck. Are. You? He clenched his fists into a tight mallet of flesh and his whole body started trembling with rage. He had never felt like this before, not even during the war when he had to gun down lunatics with guns.

"Listen," He began softly, grabbing Lestrade's shoulder and pushing the older man away and walking up to Jenny slowly. This was unexpected and Jenny immediately attempted to back away, forgetting that after the sofa came the floor. She fell off with a rather loud thud but her panic overcame her pain as she crawled back in fear. "Greg is an amazing man who deserves so much better than you piece of scum. You, are the fucking worst thing that has ever happened in his life and, believe me when I say this, there are murderers and psychopaths in Greg's life that have given more of a shit about him than you have."

John manoeuvred his way around the sofa before coming to a stop right in front of Jenny who was now a cowering mess.

"Frankly, I'd love for you to be beat up right about now but I know that Greg isn't a violent man and he would jump in to stop that from happening. So sign the damn divorce papers so that you can rot in hell."

For the finale, he crouched down so that he was eye level with the woman before him.

"And for the record, I am not and will not be a mere replacement for a slut like you. If anything, I'm a fucking upgrade. But you should remember me anyways. I'm Captain John Hamish Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers and if you continue to try and fuck with Greg's life, I can personally guarantee that I have sufficient military training to break each and every one of your bones while naming them."

With a flourish, he stepped back as a stunned (male) Lestrade stepped forward to demand a signature.

"Oh there was no need for that, I wasn't going to rile Greg up anymore anyways. Rather a waste of time if you ask me," Jenny quietly grumbled as she scribbled her name on the papers and threw the pen back at Greg. She stared her now ex-husband in the eyes.

"He's a keeper this one. Don't let him loose."

With that, Greg huffed and walked out of the flat with a now shaking John Watson trailing behind. Greg turned back and yelled into the flat.

"Oh and by the way I expect your sorry arse gone from the flat by tomorrow! I'll have movers throw out your shit if it's still there after 24 hours."


	4. No. Not dating yet

The two men ran as quickly as they could down the stairs onto the street, laughing like madmen. They ran for about a block and ducked into an alleyway to catch their breath. One should remember that neither man was very young and that their poor athletic performance ought to be pardoned.

"John. That, was terrifying. Honestly. I didn't know you had that in you. The army must've loved you," Greg said between sharp intakes of breaths, bent over and hands on his knees. John was slumped against the wall, also inhaling and exhaling deeply.

"I didn't know either mate. She just really pissed me off acting like she was all high and mighty. Greg you don't deserve such treatment. You're a good man and she should've treated you as such. Even if you're a dead fish in bed." John chuckled as he gently pushed Lestrade, hoping the man would put up a bit of a fight. He would've liked to have a good feel up of Lestrade.

"Fuck you Captain. I would prove you wrong if you were a lass." Greg lied again. But, both men knew that it wasn't enough to fool the doctor who lived with the master of deduction. After all, John did find Greg drunk in a gay bar the night before and Greg did just yell at a man for 'turning straight again' and 'leaving him'. John however, had decided this wasn't the best time to confront Greg about his sexuality considering the whole episode that had just concluded.

"So John, lunch? Let me show some gratitude for what you've done for me; you know, the taking me home and helping me get divorced. Anything you want."

"Why not? I need some food after a workout like that. Chinese?"

"I happen know a great place. Let's catch a cab." Greg started to walk out of the alley to hail a cab when a loud moan pierced the silent air. For the second time that day John froze in his tracks and tried to escape from the situation to Greg's amusement. He had expected an army man to be able to handle a bit of copulation. He turned around with a grin on his face to see John had covered his eyes with his hands like a child. Greg burst out in laughter at the sight of John.

"What on earth are you doing John?! People fuck, it happens. I'm sure it's happened to you; handsome, military man, you have it all don't you Mr lucky bastard."

John slowly lowered his hands and looked up at Lestrade sheepishly. Greg had to resist calling him adorable considering he had just made death threats to Greg's ex-wife. But the doctor really did look adorable like that.

"Sorry. I just freak out when I'm not expecting it."

"Well maybe I should've told you that this alley is popular with gays looking for a outdoor quickie. Would that have prepared you?" Greg smirked at him and caught the attention of a cab that happened to waltz by. John raised an eyebrow at him quizzically.

"How'd you know about this alley?" John tried sounding authoritative, using what he called his 'captain voice'. Greg just turned back at him and gave him a rather comical expression.

"I'm a copper John. I caught enough men here to know."

The ride in the cab was a rather enjoyable one, all things considered. John and Greg joked the whole way to the restaurant, much to the amusement of the cabbie in front.

"Nice to see some smiles for a change in London. It's much too gloomy in this city ain't it mate?" The cabbie caught Greg's eye in the mirror and smiled at him.

"You have no idea mate. Especially when you work in my department. God, you see the worst of London daily."

"Well at least you have that little ball of sunshine with you. How long have you two been together?"

Greg sat with his smile frozen and blinked a couple of times. John tried mumbling a few incoherent words to the cabbie but ultimately failed. The silence hung awkwardly in the air for a few moments.

"Oh so not married then? Or, not dating?"

"Um, no. Not dating." Greg bit his lower lip and mentally added a yet to it. John seemed to suddenly be very interested in the scenery outside along with the door handle.

"Just mates out for lunch then? Well you lot picked a good choice. This Chinese place is fantastic if I do say so myself. You won't regret it."

The cabbie's timing couldn't have been better as at this very moment he pulled up to the street and stopped the car. John handed the man a wad of notes and quite awkwardly told him to keep the change. Both men hurried themselves into the restaurant and asked for a table of two. After their orders were taken, they sat in rather comfortable silence with John toying with his glass of water and Greg drinking in the sight in front of him.

"So, where's Sherlock?" Greg asked John. He was genuinely curious as to why the consulting detective had yet to make a loud and unannounced entrance to wherever they were. John took a sip of his water and put it down in front of Greg.

"Do you know what, for the first time I actually don't know. He hasn't ever been gone this long and we've never spent nearly this much time together," John said this while looking out the window. He heard Greg cough and take a sip of his coffee before he realised how it had sounded.

"Not that it's a bad thing or anything," John tried to quickly cover up his fumbling. "In fact I've quite enjoyed it so far. We should get out together more often and have some fun."

Greg raised an eyebrow at John, just to tease the man and see him fumble. It was most definitely adorable.

"Because I am now single?"

John went beetroot red and he opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"Ah-. I-. Um, no I-"  


Greg started to laugh his deep-belly and unfiltered laugh (that John found he fancied quite a bit) and a relieved doctor joined him in giggling. It was an intoxicating laugh that nudged John closer to joining him.

"God that was good fun, making an army man blush. I'm only joking John; but to answer you, yes I'd love to get out more now that I'm a free man."

Greg smiled at John softly. This was a nice change from the usual hard (not in that way and I'd thank you to save those thoughts for later on) and cold front that the detective inspector often put on in front of others. This was a gentle and warm smile from a man that hadn't smiled genuinely in awhile now and it showed how much Greg was really enjoying his company with Watson. He reached his hand out and almost took John's hand, stopping himself just in time to grab his coffee.

While he was sure of his affection towards the miniature doctor, there was no confirmation that the doctor felt the same. Greg wasn't even sure if Sherlock was intertwined in some way with Watson. They had to have been involved somehow since they spent basically every waking moment together. At least until the past 12 hours or so apparently. The young oriental waitress brought their plate of chow mein over as per their order and handed them two plates with a quick "enjoy" before slinking off to another table in the fairly quiet restaurant. John was glad to have beat the lunch rush.

"Greg?"

"Hmm?"

"That man earlier, Tom. If I may ask, who was he? You seemed particularly pissed at him."

John eagerly asked as he spooned noodles onto Greg's plate for him. Greg looked at him awkwardly and debated internally. He could go all out now and take a plunge. Or he could play it safe and keep his good friend. With the strength of a quick prayer, Greg took a breath and braced himself for John's reaction.

"He was," A small pause here from Greg before he continued. "An old lover of mine. From when I was younger. Much younger."


	5. What, oh what do you mean?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!! *socially distanced but very excited waving* I just wanted to thank everyone for the reads and the kudos that I've been getting! It really means a tremendous amount to me :) I hope that everyone has been enjoying the story; I know I've definitely enjoyed writing it for you guys ^_^ If anyone has any thoughts or ideas for the story I'd so very much love to hear them! It would be wonderful to have fresh perspectives help to develop John and Greg's relationship :) Anyways happy reading and thanks for making my year end so bright with your support :D

He used his opening line to gauge how John might take this. John didn't seem much fazed and seemed to have a _well go on now_ expression on his face.

"And, one day I woke up in bed to see that all his things were gone and a note on the table which read that he had been seeing another man and decided they were better off together than he was with me." Greg blinked back some tears and swallowed to buy some time for himself, "Which hurt quite a bit considering I got him out of a predicament similar to mine. His girlfriend at the time had been rather mad and had even hurt him badly enough for him to need to go to the hospital. Broken arm but nothing too life threatening. I went to scare the hag shitless and threatened to hunt her down in the middle of the night where people couldn't hear her screams. Looking back, my choice of words wasn't the best." Greg smiled a little and chuckled; but that moment had a short lifespan on his face before fleeting away. In its place, was a face left full of hurt and questions.

"I was right there for him through it all like you are right now John. And the day he got out, Tom kissed me on the steps of the hospital and asked to take me to dinner. He said I was the best man he ever knew." Greg leaned back and closed his eyes, defeated. He couldn't hold it back anymore. John wasn't shocked that Greg was gay, or possibly bisexual; but he was shocked indeed to see tears roll down the cheeks of the policeman. He always thought of Greg as the toughest, strongest man he knew which was a feat considering he had literally seen war and death and things go "boom boom". Greg never showed emotion and he was the rock for everyone. At that moment, John realised that as Greg was everybody's support, he lacked any for himself. He reached out to place a hand on Greg's and patted it gently.

"We were together for the better part of 3 years. One day he ups and leaves and I only know the other bloke's first name, Craig, like it was an explanation. It sounds like my name, just longer and fancier and probably less boring; I dunno. Probably younger too. It hurt, John. Almost every day he told me I was an angel given to him by God; that I was the reason he was alive. Jenny knew about him of course and I don't know what I did to hurt either of them but apparently they saw it fit to use this to hurt me. For fuck's sake, I even let Tom call me Gregory. That's not even my full name or anything, it's just bloody old _Greg_."

Greg opened his eyes and used his other hand that didn't have John's to wipe away the tears. He was really glad he was off duty today and that the crowds hadn't started to come in. He took a big breath in and looked down at his plate. He felt slightly embarrassed by how he had so quickly given the situation a full 180. At this point, he was aware of John's thumb drawing small circles on his hand and that somewhat calmed him down a bit.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to be all gloomy." He looked up sheepishly at John, who until now hadn't uttered a single sound. It must've been the war training. If you can shut up when blood thirsty soldiers were gunning you down, you can shut up when your friend simultaneously comes out and gives you a huge sob story. And you can most definitely do it with a straight face. Well, at least John's face was kept straight; mentally, he had already descended into a gay panic. 

" _Greg_. Nothing about you is boring. You're brave, charming, funny, loyal, and _just so fucking committed_. You have nothing to be sorry about. You definitely deserved better and take my word for it, I would never do the same to you." Before the detective inspector could register what he said, John reached across the table and pulled on the man's tie to bring him closer for a kiss. Their lips crashed together in a symphony of lips and teeth as neither one was really prepared for the kiss. Greg for one hadn't seen it coming at all. John on the other hand was only preparing to give the other man a quick peck on the lips. But, for better or for worse, John's mouth sealed over Greg's and his tongue held down Greg's to explore every inch of his warm and inviting mouth. John quickly broke away for air and sat down after he realised they were in public. He never did approve of PDA by couples and did not feel up to being a hypocrite.

A dumbfounded Greg Lestrade sat opposite John and he catatonically scanned his surroundings. The lone waitress that was in the restaurant was hiding in the corner, busying herself with her selfies and the only other couple in the restaurant was angled away from them, facing the entrance of the restaurant. Greg figured they were waiting on other people. His hands floated up to his lips which were tingling with electricity and excitement. He hadn't been kissed so sweetly and purely in awhile. Make no mistake however, there was no grace in this kiss. It was one shared by two hungry men. But, it was genuine and not the half hearted, obligatory "oh you're back. I made pasta" one that Lestrade was used to from Jenny.

It had been a long time for John Watson too. The rotating circle of men that he had slept with all had one goal and one goal only: to achieve an orgasm. More often than not, these chaps wouldn't help John achieve one himself because men are horrid beings, but he always held up his end of the bargain no matter how the night ended for him. It was never anything other than raw, carnal needs. There was never any passion nor emotion (unless horniness was an emotion or a passion? But I'd think not). It felt good for John, and Greg too.

"So, good chow mein they have." Greg attempted to deflect from what had just happened. He needed time to run through the whole situation. He really liked the doctor and didn't want to scare him off by being too much. After all, the man was a whole decade younger than Lestrade and this age gap meant Lestrade rarely ever got such attention from the younger and much more attractive crowd. Usually, barely legal uni students would slide up next to him and weave their hands through his silver grey hair with a "hi daddy" that varied in drunkenness. As much as Greg enjoyed this, he preferred the company and love of an older man. That way he knew that his age wasn't the only attractive thing about himself.

"Oh is it? I haven't tried it yet. Now's a good a time as any I'd say." John tried to hide the hurt in his voice. Did he read it so wrong? Was Greg Lestrade, this tall, strapping and handsome man, not gay after all? Or was he simply not interested in little old Watson. After all, Watson considered himself to be an unremarkable fellow who did not fare too well in the looks department nor the height department. "You're right it is good chow mein. Best in London as the cabbie said." The meal carried on in largely awkward silence with bouts of conversation popping up here and there depending on what the two men had thought of. While both were deep in their own thoughts, they were in fact thinking of the same thing even if both men were too stupid to realise that each of them had been wrongly questioning themselves.

Lestrade still hadn't decided if John did indeed like him like that or if it was something from a desperate man longing for company. Greg wasn't one for pity sex nor rebound relationships and frankly he didn't know how long it would take before he would be willing to put himself out there again. John on the other hand was busy questioning if Greg had finally moved on past men and if Greg didn't fancy him the way John fancied Greg.

Clearly, both of these men are rather stupid considering the fact they had their deductions completely the wrong way around. Imagine the Sherlockian disapproval that could be.

They finished their meal and Greg got up to pay, John not counter offering because he didn't want to be read wrongly by Greg. While the bill was being settled, John went outside in search of a cab. They were lucky because the lunch crowd had finally started to trickle in and there were plenty of cabs to choose from. John picked the one at the end of the line. He was unsure of why. It gave him about 5 seconds of Awkwardness Without Greg before Greg joined him to make it A Cab Ride of Awkwardness With Greg There.

"Where to mates?" The cabbie asked from up in front, barely looking up from his mobile.

"Do you want to be dropped back at your flat? Or do you need to go somewhere?" John asked Greg. There was a quick flash of pain across Lestrade's handsome, tired face and John immediately knew why. For an Englishman his English was atrocious today. "Or would you like to pop by Baker Street for a bit? We could watch a film or something." At this point, John had all but ignored the cabbie who was waiting rather impatiently for Greg to answer.

"Can I drop by my flat to pack a bag first? I did give Jenny 24 hours to leave and I don't exactly want to sleep there tonight. I'll find a hotel later or something." Greg looked at the cabbie who nodded curtly.

"That'll cost you a little extra," the cabbie stated. It wasn't a confirmation or anything, it was just a statement. Rather cold one at that.

"That won't be a problem," John pipped up from the back. He looked at Greg. "I'll pay. Consider it thanks for lunch." John reached over to pat Lestrade on the bicep. John was surprised to find rather solid muscle underneath the grey jacket of the man. He thought only street coppers needed it.

"Right then," Greg replied with a quick nod and a smile. He gave the cabbie his address and then directed him to 221 Baker Street after.


	6. Talking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there lovelies! I believe today is the first day of Hanukkah so I'd like to first take the time to wish Happy Hanukkah to any readers who are celebrating :) (please correct me if I got any part of that wrong. My country doesn't have much exposure to Jewish holidays or anything Jewish really :/) In any case, we have Christmas coming up too and I just can't wait for it! And in light of that, I've prepared a special little Christmas story involving our favourite hedgehog and silver fox detective :3. I think what we need is a little fluffy cheer to end the year on a high note considering how miserable its been for everyone :(. I really hope my little surprise will brighten up Christmas for those of you who are celebrating alone or who need a little festive cheer! It's coming out on the 25th, Malaysian time so readers in Europe and the Americas might be reading it on the eve.

It didn't take long for him to throw some clothes into a large duffel bag along with two night's worth of toiletries and some socks and underwear. He hopped that he didn't need to stay long at Baker Street but part of him also hopped that he never needed to leave. Greg ran down the stairs back to the waiting car where John was fumbling around with his phone. He seemed to be concentrated in something. The truth was that John had wanted to avoid talking too much with Greg about whatever had happened at the restaurant as he didn't want the cabbie to be listening in, so he pretended not to see Greg staring at him intensely.

"Something the matter?" Greg asked John, touching the doctor's arm. John looked up and into Greg's eyes. Greg could almost see his reflection in the sky blue eyes that seemed to dance and sparkle with the soft light of the sun falling on them.

"No, not at all," John smiled at Greg warmly, "Just giving Sherlock a heads up that you'll be staying awhile. Don't worry I told him Lestrade was staying so he knows it's you."

Greg chuckled softly. If John could crack jokes like that then surely nothing was wrong, right?

Greg followed John up the stairs to the flat, greeting Ms Hudson at the entrance with one of his signature dazzling smiles when they walked in. Even though she smiled back sweetly, he could've sworn he heard her whisper, "Oh dear another one. John had better be using protection." Greg took a look at John, halfway up the stairs, and caught him grinning.

"Don't worry about Ms Hudson too much. She overthinks. I don't actually bring home that many people," John explained to Greg. Greg could only smile back at him stupidly.

John continued up another flight of stairs and Greg stood for awhile to admire his pert arse. He was going through an eight month dry spell and the view was almost enough to make him cum right there and then. He must've been staring for awhile because John suddenly turned around and gave him a quizzical look.

"You do remember the flat is up here, don't you?"

Greg snapped out of his hormonal daze and hurried up the stairs.

"Yeah, right. No, I remember. Sorry I was just in a daze." Greg lied to John as he jumped onto the landing.

John opened the door to be greeted by a Sherlock that was standing in the middle of the living room looking disoriented. His hair was dishevelled and his eyes bloodshot. He was practically shaking. It was worrying.

"Sherlock where the hell have you been?" John exclaimed as he put his hands on his hips, like a mother about to serve a good dressing down.

"Experiment," Sherlock replied curtly, "I was studying the effects of 24 hours of straight consciousness." As if that was explanation enough. John stood completely dumbfounded at the top of the stairs.

"I see Lestrade is here too. Do not try and “help” with anything please, John‘s irritating habit of “cleaning up” is a bad enough for my experiments. Now if you’ll excuse me I shall be in my room attempting to enter the REM stage of sleep in record time also for an experiment. If the two of you decide to fornicate, by all means gag John. I do not need to deduce anything to know that he is unacceptably loud.” With a flourish Sherlock disappeared into his room.

John stood in the hallway blinking. Greg crept up slowly behind him. 

"Are you really that loud?" Greg asked, a mischievous grin on his face. John turned back to him and scrawled at him.

"None of that from you now."

“I gather that’s not the first time?” Greg asked John. John shook his head.

“You’ve known him longer than I have. You tell me,” John said as he smiled at Greg, “So, movie? Or would you rather watch the telly?” John asked Lestrade as he headed into the kitchen to prepare tea. Greg swallowed and made his way to the living room. There wasn’t a television in sight.

“Suppose I want to watch the telly,” Greg began, “how would we watch it without a television?” John poked his head out of the kitchen and pointed to the table behind Greg.

“I have a laptop and we have broadband. Detective you ought to be ashamed.” John had said the last part with a cheeky smile and disappeared back in the kitchen as the kettle whistled. Greg couldn't help but smile a little. John came out of the kitchen balancing a teapot with two teacups on a tray. Greg couldn't help but notice the lilac flowers painted all over the expensive china. It was an intricately drawn design, clearly done by a master. He never expected John to have such taste in furnishing. After all, he expected the man to wear camouflage at least some of the time. John caught Greg staring at the chinaware and decided to explain a little.

"My sister's. Or rather it was supposed to be. My parents got it for her when she moved out but she never liked it. Said it was too dainty and feminine," John smiled, "It sounded weird at first; but two seconds later she told my parents that she was a lesbian and she hated girly things. Not sure why they did it but my parents thought that the next best recipient was me after I came back from the war. They thought it would help mellow me out. Not that I needed mellowing or anything."

Greg simply nodded along.

"Well," he began, "that would explain why you took the news from lunch fairly well. When my parents found out they immediately started making plans for me to marry the neighbour's daughter, hoping that domestic life would 'straighten me out' as they called it. Jenny used it as an excuse to cheat when she found out, saying 'it's not like you'd be missing me much. You don't even want what I have'."

John sat down on the sofa next to Greg, leaving about an inch of space between them. It was close but it wasn't too close that it could give the wrong message. Again, John had wanted to take this slowly. He was convinced that he really liked Greg and he didn't want to scare him away by making him think it was pity sex or him experimenting in middle age. And in any case, he needed to be sure himself that he was ready and able to love Greg.

"Actually," John began, adding some cream to his tea, "I did want to talk about what happened at lunch. If I may of course," he finished, taking a sip of his drink. Greg stopped with his cup in mid-air, unsure of what to say. He set the cup back down on the coffee table and turned to face John who reciprocated in kind. He took a deep breath in and exhaled, preparing himself for this 'talk'. He felt like he was 19 all over again.

"Right. And what exactly would we be talking about?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! I hope you've liked this chapter hehe. Once again I'd love it so very much if you were able to spare a comment here or there; just thoughts on the story would be lovely or if you have an idea on how to develop it I would love to hear it! I would also like to take this moment to tell you all how much I've appreciated the kudos that I've been receiving ♥, they really brighten up my day and inspire me to write more :)


	7. I really, really, really, really, really, really like you (And I want you, do you want me, do you want me, too?)

John looked into the deep brown eyes in front of him. His whole body felt warm, the rush of adrenaline sped through every inch of him. He could feel it in his arms, in his chest, at the back of his neck, all the way down to his toes. His breathing became deeper and faster in pace. His hands were trembling and he didn't know what to do with them. All he could think of was putting them onto Greg's perfect body, feeling his palms slide up and down the inviting police officer.

Instead, he started wringing his hands and his eyes darted about. John licked his lips and braced himself to say it. It was no big deal, he had done it before. He had gotten both ends of the spectrum, if the spectrum ranged from being thrown out to being shagged that is, and everything else that could possibly fall in between. So why was it so difficult now? It wasn't this that was difficult. It was the possibility, the fear of being rejected. The fear of Lestrade saying 'ok and that means I have to like you now?'. John felt that Greg was a really good friend, a fantastic man to be around and someone he could always rely on. But more that anything, he wanted it to be much more than that.

"So, um. I'm gay first of all. Out and proud, I have absolutely no interest in shagging a woman and would much preferably be shagged by another man. So that's that." John got it all out with a single breath. Frankly, he didn't even hear himself speak. A moment later he registered his own words and realised what an idiot he sounded like.

"Well, that makes two of us then." Greg smiled at John warmly. He reached out and squeezed the doctor's hand gently, in a reassuring way that said "don't worry I won’t beat you up". John felt as if a massive weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he felt slightly freer. He looked up back at Greg, who was now eyeing him intently. John felt his loins stir and tried to adjust his sitting position to accommodate that.

"So about lunch," he began.

"Right, about that," Greg interjected, "I was wondering-"

"I wanted to-"

"Um can we actually-"

"Oh sorry no you go first," Greg offered to John. John shook his head in defiance and indicated Lestrade should go first.

"My mother taught me to listen to my elders first," John explained with a cheeky grin on his face.

"Bugger off," Greg playfully scolded him, "I'm only 47. Little past my prime but I'm no grandpa." The two men laughed a little before Greg decided to ask John _the question_.

"So that kiss at the restaurant," John was already screaming internally in gay panic. He knew that was a bad idea. This is where Greg was going to say that it was cute or something but he was thoroughly uninterested in John and they should stay friends instead or even worse Greg didn't like it at all and John was a horrible kisser. Was it the lips? Definitely the lips. Curse the cold and John's hatred for lib balm.

"I'm sorry," John blurted out immediately. Greg was caught off guard. Okay. So this meant that both men had it wrong. (Now this is starting to become something of a recurring theme isn't it?)

"I'm not sure why you're apologising; but I did want to ask you, what did that kiss mean to you?" Greg asked John, eyes sparkling with curiosity. It was clear that Greg hadn't been loved in a long time and that fleeting moment meant a lot to him. John honestly couldn't say. What was it? It wasn't pity. It wasn't a gesture of apology, no one says that with a hearty mouth-to-mouth kiss accompanied with kinky tie pulling.

"Honestly, I don't really know either," John admitted, biting his lower lip. He sat up straighter (haha) against the chair. "I didn't kiss you out of pity however, if that's what you're thinking." Greg nodded along like he was listening in to a school lesson. John decided to take the plunge. After all, coming out to Greg didn't break his world.

"Greg," John began, his voice trembling slightly, "I actually really like you. I think that you're a really nice man to be around and I think there's more to you than Detective Inspector Lestrade who walks around all day eating doughnuts and calling Sherlock Holmes to help you solve every other case. I also think you have a great personality and that your laugh is infectious and addictive. I think that you're a sweet, loving man that needs to be loved back and I think you deserve to have someone who deserves you."

Greg was taken aback by John's speech. It was sweet, sure. But it was definitely not what Greg had in mind. He figured that John was more of a "I kissed you because I really wanted a shag but I forgot we were in a restaurant so I stopped" kind of man. But there it was. John liked him. Greg sat dumbfounded for a moment. John merely continued to look into his eyes, heart pounding in his ears. He could hear the panic going coursing through his veins. Eventually after what seemed like years, Greg cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Well John," Greg started nervously, "I'm really glad to hear that from you. Well, I think I feel the same way. Sort of. Like, um. I think you're really cute actually and I definitely have enjoyed my time around you." It was a pathetic attempt compared to John's eloquent monologue on Lestrade. But let's be fair to the detective inspector; he hadn't much practice considering there was nothing to compliment nor adore in Jenny. Nothing except her superhuman inability to get neither pregnant nor a disease from her sleeping around that is. John merely sat back and folded his arms. He started to pout and it almost made Greg coo at him.

"I'm not cute! I'm a soldier for God's sakes!" John exclaimed as he narrowed his eyes and glared at Greg. "And after all that all I got from you was that I'm cute? Greg I'm disappointed." John tried to sound upset but he couldn't hide his grin and his playful tone of voice. That was what Lestrade loved so much about the small, soldier-doctor. He had a wonderful sense of humour and couldn’t help but leak emotions like an old faucet. Greg thought that it was adorable for John not to be able to hide his emotions well.

"Well, you're only small. What else could I say?" Greg knew this would get the doctor riled up. It didn't elicit a response from him. Rather, John turned away to pout and Greg laughed at him. The sound of Greg’s deep voice made something in John click and he lost all sense of any false anger or poutiness.

"There's that addictive laugh," John turned around and smirked, "You know just how to make it up to a man." John rolled his eyes with a stupid grin on his face and picked up the cup of tea that he had abandoned during his sermon.

"Well, I can actually think of better ways to make it up to you. If you're interested that is," Greg offered coyly, also taking a sip of his tea. Hopefully John was as up to it as he was.

"Oh?" It was an interested 'oh'. John had taken the bait. "Do go on then."

"I'd like to try that kiss out one more time, if you don't mind."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Thanks for reading this new chapter! Just one week to go until Christmas and another to get to the end of this horrible year :'). I hope everyone's staying safe and enjoying some quality reading! As usual any comments are welcome and appreciated here :)


	8. Going For Seconds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm so sorry for posting this up so late!! Christmas has been absolutely hectic this year and in the midst of the festivities I completely forgot that it was a Friday :( Hopefully the content here more than makes up for it ;) While I'm here I'd like to wish everyone reading this a very Happy Christmas! The new year looms and soon 2020 will be nothing but history. Stay strong and stay safe everyone :3

John was pleasantly shocked. He was dumbfounded, no question about that. But it wasn't one of those dumbfounded episodes where he was internally going _'what the bloody fuck'_ , but rather one of those times where he was so happy by the unexpected news that he went catatonic. Greg was still sitting in front of him, grinning hopefully. John's zoning out didn't faze Greg too much. He knew what he wanted with John and he was quite confident in getting there with him.

"Um, I don't see why not," John smiled quite cheekily at Lestrade as he finished his tea and returned the cup to its place on the table. Greg put his cup down as well and angled his body for optimum snogging with John angles.

"So, do you want to go first this time? I did pull on your tie earlier. It only seems fair," John offered, ever the polite Englishman. Greg laughed as he pushed himself closer to John, hand reaching out to caress his head of light blond hair.

"Such chivalry. I could really get used to you," Greg said as he pulled John in closer. He teased John by slowly stroking the nape of his neck, feeling the goose bumps make their appearance on his skin. John closed his eyes in impure bliss, enjoying the warm hand adoring him. It sent shivers down his spine and made him giddy with excitement. Greg leaned down to plant a small kiss on John's forehead, whispering softly so as not to rouse Sherlock.

"So," Greg punctuated this with a second kiss, this time on the bridge of John's nose, "can I kiss you? _Please_?" Greg asked John with a smile. John squirmed in his seat and tried to hide his growing erection from Greg. John looked like a moaner. Greg was determined to control this. The last thing they needed was to have Sherlock woken up by their botched hooking up attempt. It wasn't that Sherlock was going to be embarrassed or would embarrass them; it would just work out to be better for everyone if he didn't say "I told you so" when the topic of their shagging or snogging came up.

"Yes _please_ detective inspector," John whispered back hoarsely. Greg decided to tease him a little bit more. A cheeky grin came to his face as he moved down farther to John's neck. Greg used his teeth to gently scrap against the soft skin and he bit down gently. Closing his eyes, Greg started to suck on John's neck. Occasionally, he would apply his tongue to John's skin to tease the doctor. All while doing this, Greg maintained his caressing of John's hair with one hand and used the other to run up and down his body. Greg moved his kisses in a sloppy line from John's neck, down to his throat and moved back up again to face John. John's hands had gone to Greg's waist to steady the older man. His breathing became deep and fast. Adrenaline rushed through his body. His mind was foggy. He opened his mouth to try and sweet talk Greg. But it didn't come out too well.

"Hello." John smiled stupidly at Greg, waiting for the policeman to kiss him. His assault on John's neck had only served to stir his groin further.

"Oh look, I've left a mark," Greg said as he used a finger to prod at John's neck. For some reason, the thought of having a love bite from Greg turned John on very much. 

"Well, what's stopping you from leaving more then?" John licked his lips as he stared down Greg. His eyes flicked down quickly and he caught sight of an engorged lump in Greg's pants. John hoped his package was as good as it was inviting. Greg grinned at John and bit his lower lip.

"Do you want to go somewhere else for that?" Greg asked.

"I'm sorry but, did _you_ just invite _yourself_ to _my room in my own house_?" John laughed as he asked Greg. Greg couldn't help but laugh back at him.

"Well I've already bought you lunch, so I didn't jump the gun," Greg said, still looking hopeful. John eventually agreed to bring Greg up to his room. Not for a hook up, not necessarily; but if it happened, John would have preferred for it to be in his own bed than on the couch. Taking him by the hand, John led Greg from the sofa, up the stairs and to his bedroom door. Before he could open the door to nudge Greg inside, Greg took back control and pushed John up against the door, leaning his entire weight on the smaller man. Usually this would've upset John due to his rather miniature stature, but here in this situation, he found himself _uncharacteristically_ and _unacceptably_ turned on. It must've gone against the rules of the Convention of Smaller People to have enjoyed this but _bugger the rules._

John could feel every inch of Greg's body pressing against him. It was a comfortable pressure. Greg tilted John's head up with a small tug of his hair and he leaned down himself to meet John's lips with his own. This wasn't like the first kiss where they were both hungry and aggressive. This was a much softer, gentler and much more controlled kissing from both fronts. Greg bit on John's lower lip, using it as leverage to wiggle his tongue in. He sucked on John's face greedily, as if it was his first with a man. In fact, it had been Greg's first time in a long time. His hand hadn't left John's hair and in the midst of their kissing, he pulled on John's head with light pressure.

This seemed to have triggered something in John, for his hips inexplicably moved up and forwards, driving into Lestrade's upper thigh. He moaned into Greg's kiss deeply and his hands sprung into action. They went from sitting at his sides, to grabbing and holding on tightly to Greg's hip and his back. John could feel his erection pressing against the muscle of Greg's leg and in turn he could also feel the poking of Greg's boner against his stomach. It was a familiar situation, yet with Greg this all seemed new and fresh. It was exhilarating. The rough, yet gentle way Greg had been handling him; the thought of Sherlock walking out at any time to catch them; his boldness in coming onto Greg. It all awakened parts of John that he never knew existed.

"God you're a _fucking tease_ ," Greg said as he broke away from air. John felt breathless without his mouth sealed over his. As if someone had given him mouth-to-mouth to just within an inch of life, only to have stopped the life giving process suddenly. He wanted it more now that it was gone. John moved his hand up Lestrade's neck and pulled him in closer.

" _Shut the fuck up and kiss me already detective inspector_ ," John whispered hoarsely against Greg. Greg was more than happy to oblige. Greg let go of John and moved to grab both of his arms. Using some force, he pushed them over John's head so that he could hold John down.

"You know," Greg started as he began to place kisses on random spots over John's face and throat, "you put on a great show," Greg continued as he licked John's neck. "You down there grinding your hips against me. You just want me _so badly_ don't you John?"

Lestrade oozed confidence and dominance and John thirstily drank it all up. He licked his lips and thrust his hips forward once more, allowing Greg's boner to rub against the fabric of both his own pants and John's abdomen. Greg leaned back and moaned lowly.

" _God, oh Fuck._ You really want it bad, don't you boy?" Greg finally granted John's wish and opened the door, pushing John in. Nudging him to the bed, Greg shifted his hands to John's waist and John's freed hands immediately went into Greg's silver hair.

"Go on now, back it up. On the bed, nice and easy," Greg cooed at John, coaxing him back. As much fun as it was to be able to fuck John right there on the floor in the middle of the room, a bed was much more comfortable in Greg's experience. "That's a good boy. Come on now, nice and slow. On the bed we go.” Greg gently pushed John onto the bed and he went to close the door.

“You do realise I’m not actually a child?” John asked Greg, eyebrows raised and arms folded across his chest. Oh he looked exactly like a child in this position. Greg strode back to the bed and sat down, his weight causing the bed to sink a small amount. He put one arm around John rather lovingly and pulled him in for a quick peck on the forehead.

"Oh but you do look so very adorable for a non child," Greg said. He just loved to tease John, it was all good fun seeing John squirm about and protest that he wasn't a child or that he wasn't small. Contradictions, contradictions. It was hilarious to Greg. It was lucky for him that the doctor shared his sense of humour. John couldn't do much more than smile back at Greg. He leaned into Greg's body and used his weight to push Greg down onto the bed. With Lestrade lying down flat, John anchored himself on top of the man and straddled his hips. He grabbed Greg's hands and pulled them above his head, holding them down securely with one hand. Military training was rarely useful in bed, but there are always firsts for everything aren't there?

John leaned down and kissed Lestrade deeply, using his tongue to force his way into the depths of the man's mouth. This was nothing too new to John as he's had his fair share of lads and men alike. Even the slight stubble scraping his cheek was a welcome familiarity. John's position on top was something rather new however, as he was usually squished below. He felt powerful on top of Greg, in control. John liked the feeling of this. Greg on the other hand, was relishing the opportunity of letting John take control of the situation. Greg admitted that he did often like to be the one in control, directing the flow of his relationships; but being detective inspector meant people around him often went "sir what should we do?" and it was a nice change to let someone else take the wheel for once.

Greg relaxed into John's kiss and he wiggled underneath John to try and brush up against him. John broke off the kiss and sat back on his haunches, pinning Greg down with his hands on Greg's strong shoulders. He kissed Greg one more time on his forehead before grinning at him.

"Hello you up there," Greg said playfully.

"Hello you down there," John replied in good spirit. He leaned down to suck on Greg's neck, showing him exactly just how eager he was to have Greg inside of him, any part of him really.

"Trying to prove you're not just a little boy eh?" Greg asked him, leaning his head back to enjoy John's artful mouth.

"Well Greg," John pulled himself off of Greg's neck, "I have other ways to show you that. This is just the beginning." John gave him a sly smirk and let his hand drift down to Greg's crotch.


	9. Get On With It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year all! Here's a really anticipated update for you lot :3 So sorry about the rushed upload! I was really busy preparing for a New Year gathering with my family and I just really wanted to get this out there for you lovely people :) On a side tangent, I'm typing this from my new laptop and it feels absolutely magical :DDD Happy reading everyone and leave some wonderful comments on this chapter please, I'm really looking forward to some feedback here >:))

John clasped his fingers firmly around Greg's pulsing erection and gave him a light squeeze. Greg felt hard as concrete in John's hand and the pressure he had applied made Lestrade involuntarily arch his hips in pleasure, letting out a low and deep growl.

" _God. Fuck._ John hurry up and stop teasing me please," Greg begged, not bothering to keep his voice down. With him wrapped around a finger, John rubbed Greg's stiff cock through his trousers, feeling the entire length of his shaft.

"I'll get to that soon," John smirked and gave Greg another squeeze, this time drawing a moan out of him, "if you can keep quiet enough not to wake Sherlock. I don't fancy him coming in when I'm trying to focus on sucking this meaty cock of yours Lestrade." Greg wordlessly nodded. Anything to make it all happen. Fuck it if the queen walked in at this moment; his cock was going into John's mouth if it was the last thing the earth would allow to happen. Hearing John call him "Lestrade" made Greg feel extra horny. He never knew he had this side to himself.

"Well get on with it then," Greg impatiently nudged John from below. John repositioned himself so that his face lined up with Greg's crotch and he undid Greg's belt, using the back of his hand to rub against the fabric of Greg's trousers as he pulled off Greg's expensive leather belt. Unbuckling Greg's trousers, John lifted Greg's hips up with a surprising amount of strength and slid the trousers off the policeman. This left Greg's erection heartily exposed to John and straining against the fabric of his very thin briefs. John leaned down and used his tongue to ever so slightly lick the rather obvious area of Greg's cockhead. The briefs were thin enough to leave little to imagination for John and he greatly enjoyed the sight. Upon contact, Greg thrusted his hips up violently and the suddenness of his action was enough to make John's tongue slide more aggressively against Greg's dick and this triggered another wave of pleasure for Greg.

Oh it had been way too long since Greg had a decent blowjob. Hell, with the amount of work he's had even a wank was rare for him. Greg was worried that he would cum before John had even taken off his briefs and so he grabbed a fistful of John's hair firmly, but not roughly, to signal to John that Greg was ready for the show that John was about to put on. John understood Greg's wordless command, having been at the receiving end of it many times, and moved to act. Using his teeth, John bit the waist band of Greg's briefs and pulled them off. Greg lifted his hips to allow John to do his part. The fabric pulled Greg's penis along for awhile before it sprang free, hitting John in the chin when it did.

John couldn't give lesser fucks to be fully honest. He was intently focused on the slick, pulsing cock inches away from his face that was attached to one of _the hottest men_ he knew. John had enough sex in his life to know when his partner was lacking it and it was painfully clear to John that Greg hadn't had a release in a while now.

"Been a long time has it?" John looked up at Greg and asked. He moved forwards, towards Greg's throbbing erection. It was by no means the biggest nor the girthiest that he's had—that trophy belonged to some bloke he met on the tube a few years before his meeting with Sherlock—but that didn't mean that John wanted it any less than he normally did. The bulbous head, now turning purple from the strain of Greg's lack of any sexual relief, glistened with leaking precum. It was like a leaky faucet. No wonder people say plumbers aren't paid nearly enough for what they fix.

"Am I that obvious John?" Greg retorted, sitting back up on his elbows to look back down at John who now had a hand firmly around the base of Greg's cock. Using the lubricant Greg naturally was bursting with, John slicked up his hand and started to give him a few good strokes. The contact between John's hand and Greg's cock made Greg lean back and close his eyes.

"Well, you are leaking like Ms Hudson's sink. So I'd wager your last wank was some time ago."  
  
"Please do not bring Ms Hudson into my mind when you're down there stroking my cock. That's just off putting," said Greg as he laughed. John returned the smile and used his thumb to run circles around Greg's cockhead, teasing him even more.

"Will you just suck it already John," Greg demanded and pushed John's head down. John happily obliged, wondering how Greg was able to last so long. Gingerly, John put his warm, wet mouth over the first few inches of Greg's cock and used his tongue to slide over and around his cockhead. Greg collapsed back onto the bed with pleasure. John enjoyed the sight of Greg, reacting to his mouth. John happily took in another few inches of Greg, sucking gently as he did so. His tongue slid onto the underside of Greg's dick and John let himself run rather wild here, going up and down and round and round. John was rather proud to call himself an expert in the field of men's genitalia; not because he was a doctor, but because he's given enough blowjobs to enough cocks to know them as well as one could. Going down another two inches, John finally reached the base of Greg's dick, his nose meeting Greg's pubic hair. John sucked a little more and imitated a swallowing action to further stimulate Greg.

As usual, this worked like a charm and it sent Greg's hips flying upwards, thrusting his cock further into John's throat. John was prepared for this to happen and had a hand on Greg's hip ready to hold him down. John gave Greg one last little suck before pulling off completely. This time, John repositioned himself and started to lick Greg's cock from base to tip, his tongue sliding briskly over Greg's shaft. Using his right hand, John gave Greg nice, long strokes, combining both his own spit and Greg's pre cum as lube. As all this was happening, John maintained eye contact with Greg, grinning with excitement as he did. Greg's breathing had become a very loud panting by now and Greg's rough hand had reached out to grab John's hair, pulling him back onto Greg's cock. John went back to his expert blowjob routine. _Suck, lick, up and down, repeat._ Greg was enjoying it more than words could say. Frankly, he could barely get any words out. He was a panting pile of moans and gasps. Each time John relaxed his throat a bit to let in Greg's cock, Greg responded with a long groan.

"Come on lad, suck your papa off. That's it. God I'd love to _fuck_ your warm mouth right about now." Greg had a rather filthy mouth in bed and it was something that John adored. His partners usually treated him like something of a toy rather than a person. Greg's dirty talk rather turned John on, and this made him want to please Greg all the more. John pulled off with a satisfied grin and gave Greg a few good strokes.

"Well do it then. _Daddy_." John planted a small kiss on Greg's cock head as he finished his words, slyly dragging out the last one. Greg laughed and then shook his head. He reached out and grasped the back of John's head.

"Well, you asked for it lad." Greg roughly pulled John's head back down into his groin and forced his cock all the way down John's throat. Like a sword being unsheathed, Greg used his hand to pull John's mouth off his cock, John using his tongue to add in some extra stimulation for Greg's enjoyment. Up. Down. Up. Down.

Greg picked up speed and eventually he fell into a comfortable rhythm of fucking John's mouth. All the while, John was a good boy, continuously running his tongue in circles around Greg's cock.

"John. _I'm cumming_." John reached out to pat Lestrade's thigh, signalling for him to let it all out. John intensified his sucking and continued to lick the underside of Greg's cock. Suddenly, Greg felt the muscles in his thigh contracting and his balls tightening; his hips violently shot up and he let out a deep, loud and primal moan. John felt the first bursts of salty and slightly bitter cum hit the roof of his mouth and he pulled back a little, allowing his mouth to act as a jug for Greg. John continued sucking on Greg's softening cock which still had cum dribbling out. It had leaked out of John's mouth and was dripping down his chin, on his cheek and glossed his lips. Hungrily, John continued to work his mouth on Greg's dick until Greg pulled him off gently. Greg was starting to feel overstimulated and it had gone from a pleasurable pressure to unbearable stimulation.

John crawled up and laid his head down on Lestrade's still clothed chest, using a finger to run circles around Greg's chest absentmindedly. He hadn't enjoyed giving a blowjob in such a long time. Greg tugged gently on John's hair, indicating that he wanted something. John turned his head to face Greg, the sticky cum smearing all over Greg's nice shirt. Greg pulled John up for a kiss, using his tongue to invade John's slimy mouth. He pulled away and used a finger to wipe off some of his cum from John's face before licking it off. John merely smiled at him.

"Sorry about the shirt," John started.

"It's quite alright. I can't be angry at you with the show you just put on for me now, can I doctor?" Greg used his knuckles to stroke John's sticky cheek affectionately. "Come on, here's a tissue. Let's get this off you."

"Not much came out, I swallowed most of it." John smiled sheepishly as Greg used a tissue to dab away at the semen spread all over his face.

"Did you now? Aren't you a good boy then, licking up all of your papa's juices," Greg teased John as he threw the tissue into the wastebasket next to John's bed. "Did you enjoy it then? Or was I having all the fun?" Greg asked John, propping himself up on one elbow. His trousers still hung loosely around his shins, Greg couldn't be bothered to cover up. After all John had _just_ given him a fucking fantastic blowjob. Greg reached out to boop John's nose, and of course he knew the convention of making the sound too. John giggled a little and rested his head on Greg's chest, closing his eyes.

"Of course I enjoyed that. Especially when it's with someone like you." John then sat upright, deciding to clean up a little. Greg shifted curiously, wondering what John was about to do.

  
"Where are you going lad?" Greg asked, reaching out to take John's hand.

"Oh. I just thought I'd do a little clean up. After all your cum is on my bed. I figured you could use the shower, that's right outside." John started to explain when Greg pulled him back onto the bed.

"So soon? Come on John, I've had my fun. Now its your turn." Greg gave John a mischievous grin. John was pleasantly surprised. Usually, the men that John shagged would just demand for a blowjob and then would flip him around to fuck him. John normally got himself off at the end using his trusty right hand. Being offered a blowjob unprompted was a lovely surprise; though he shouldn't have been too surprised considering he was in bed with Greg Lestrade. Greg always did have some decency.

"You're blowing me?" John asked, just to be sure.

"Well," Greg started, "unless you don't want me to? It's only fair after all isn't it?" John smiled and nodded. Greg picked him up by the hips using all his upper body strength and positioned John so that he was sitting up against the headboard. He ruffled John's blonde hair and gave him a light kiss on the nose.

"There we go. _Perfect._ "


	10. Your Turn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there lovlies :3 So sorry for the late update, a week's flown by so quickly and I didn't even notice it was Friday! Anywho, I hope that readers in America, DC in particular, are safe and that everything's alright there. 2021 is really starting off nastily isn't it fapfaewdfaiofa. Don't worry though, Greg and John are here to make it all better hehe :3

Greg gave John a warm smile but John saw through that. John saw what Lestrade had in his eyes: Lust. Pure, unfiltered lust. A lust for him, John Watson. John had seen that look in many men's eyes before, staring him down at the bar, getting a nice eyeful when he was out in the shops, very unabashedly glancing down below his non existent belt. This was also a look that he was familiar with in the army. He had seen many comrades with it burning behind their eyes, and it brought back some scars from his past.

But the lust that burned in Greg's eyes wasn't a fiery, hot lust. It was a much softer, warmer kind. One might even say, excitement or affection. It was almost as if Greg was looking forward to returning the favour for John. Greg's hands went to John's buckle, undoing it with his strong hands, gaze never broken. John licked his lips and in response to this, Lestrade leaned in to kiss him. John closed his eyes, letting his other senses take in all of Greg. How his stubble was brushing roughly against John's cheek; how Greg's tongue slid all around John's mouth rather expertly; the warmth radiating from Greg's palm as he pulled off John's trousers and starting pawing out John's groin. His erection was all but hidden through his thin white boxer briefs and Greg was enjoying his teasing of John.

With his thick fingers, Greg rubbed John's length, going from the base, up the shaft and circling round the head before coming back down to repeat the process.

"Going to put it in your mouth any time soon detective?" John broke the kiss and asked impatiently. He had enough of waiting and he wanted Lestrade right now.

"Oh, trying to be a big boy now are you? Barking out orders like the captain you are." Greg teased, leaning down to lick John's neck. He bit down and sucked gently, using his hand to apply more pressure down onto John's cock. "Don't worry John. This," Greg grasped John's erection firmly, "is all the proof I need that you're a big boy. Now, can you be a good boy for your daddy and keep quiet? You wouldn't want Sherlock barging in and ruining your nice blowjob now wouldn't you?" Greg whispered hoarsely beside John's ear. John's heartbeat quickened and the throbbing pulse in his hard cock became more apparent. Greg enjoyed the feeling of it in his hand. Lestrade came to face John again and gave him a "well?" look. John nodded his head, words barely registering in his head as he meekly whispered.

"Yes daddy."

Greg gave John a mischievous grin and nodded slowly. Getting between John's legs, Greg positioned himself so that he could comfortably fellate John while making eye contact—assuming John didn't close his eyes and throw his head back at least. Holding his gaze, Greg stuck his tongue out and gave John's clothed erection an attentive lick, making sure to moisten it as much as he could. John let out a small sound of pleasure, something that Greg found rather cute. Greg dragged his tongue all the way to the head of John's cock, peeking out from the foreskin but still covered by the fabric of his pants, and twirled his tongue in circles around it. This time John reacted with a grateful moan. It was rare that he got a blowjob that wasn't half hearted, and right here Greg was giving him as much love and attention than he had provided originally. It was an odd feeling and it gave John an uneasy weight on his chest. This was something that lovers did, not hook-ups. He plainly just wasn't used to this.

Greg gave John one last lick and pulled up so that he could pull John's pants off with his hands. As Greg was more gentle about it than John was, John's cock didn't come flying out but rather slid out gently, almost shyly if one were to ask. Greg hungrily took it all in. He had been pinning for John for awhile now. Greg didn't bother with taking it slow, he wanted to feel John in his mouth.

Using one hand, Greg guided John's cockhead into his mouth and used his tongue to run circles over it and under. John threw his head back in pleasure and moaned, rather loudly in fact. This encouraged Lestrade who took a few more inches of John into his mouth. John could feel the tip of his cock sliding ever so slightly down Greg's throat and he pulled on Greg's hair to stop him from taking too much in at once. They held their positions steady for a few minutes, allowing Greg some time to adjust to the thickness of John's dick in his mouth and for John to bring himself back from the edge. When John gave Greg the nod to go ahead, he resumed his oral assault on John's cock. Using the technique he was taught, Greg bobbed up and down on John's cock, using his lips as a shield against his teeth. Greg was gentle with John and didn't try to rush him to orgasm. Now that he had accomplished getting John Watson's penis into his mouth, he wanted to savour it as much as possible.

Pulling off, Lestrade used his hand to stroke John's spit slicked cock as he turned his attention down to the pair of balls that hung below. Greg was no stranger to this, though he did wager that as a bottom (probably?) John wasn't used to the feeling of being pleasured by another man in this general area. Greg gently took one testicle into his mouth, and then the other. He had been told he had a big mouth and what good are assets that one fails to use? John was overwhelmed with stimulation. Greg's hand on his cock, sliding up and down and his thumb rubbing circles all around his cock head was already enough to render him speechless; but the added sensitivity of his scrotum and Greg's warm mouth over it filled him to the brim with lust. John wanted Greg's hungry mouth back onto his cock.

With a small amount of strength, John pulled Greg's hair and got him off from his balls. John directed Greg back to his cock and used his free hand to guide it in. Greg gave John an awkward grin which could be forgiven since he had almost all of John's cock in his mouth by now. Greg's sucking turned more intense and his motions quickened. John used his hand to guide Greg up and down so that he wouldn't go too fast. Greg admitted that he couldn't match John in terms of skill, the man had given a lot of love to a lot of cocks as far as Greg could tell, but he wasn't about to get John off without giving him a good time.

With gentle precision, Greg started to apply some teeth into his blowjob. He scraped John's shaft gently and used his tongue to stimulate John's cockhead. This caused John to begin panting. His mind was foggy with pleasure and he could barely register the words forming in his mouth.

"Harder Greg. Please. I'm going to cum soon." His words came out in a loud, hoarse whisper. Hearing them made Greg want to perform for John and he pulled off to ask him a question.

"Want me to swallow?" John shook his head. He cupped Greg's face, stubble scraping his palm.

"No, I want to see myself cum on you. Can I do that papa?" John grinned nervously, biting his bottom lip. Greg's ears perked up hearing John call him 'papa'. Greg had grown to have a daddy kink as he aged and hearing John say it was particularly arousing. Greg didn't object to John's request and went back down to his crotch, taking his entire length into his mouth again. This time, he decided to be a tad more adventurous with John's cock and took the first three inches down his throat. Greg's nose was now firmly etched onto John's groin and mimicking the swallowing motions John had used on him, he attempted to deep throat John. This was a fairly tough task considering John's cock was of a nice girth and Greg had never tried it before. It seemed to have the desired effect since John's hips bucked and his moans grew louder.

Satisfied with himself, Greg pulled up. Now he intended to bring John over the edge. Steadying himself, Greg started sucking on John's cock, hard, as he moved up and down, gaining speed with each cycle. John felt himself getting close to the edge. His thighs started to contract and he could barely control his hips any longer; they had a mind of their own, fucking Greg's mouth at their own pace. Greg noticed how John was beginning to lose control and pulled off. He started to stroke John's cock lovingly, knowing he was close.

"Almost there lad. Let your daddy take you there. Just relax into my hand." No sooner than had Greg finished his sentence, John groaned and starting shooting his first spurts of cum. Greg's face had been close by, just as John wanted, and he felt the first wave of John's orgasm hit him in the face. He closed one eye and brought John's cock closer, like a thirsty animal hogging the sole working faucet. John continued with a second and third burst, much lesser than Greg considering he had a much more active sex life. Greg obediently let most of John's juices land on his face, but some had dribbled out of John's cock onto Greg's hand which he happily lapped up. Once John was spent, Greg used his fingers to continue milking John, extending the pleasure. He bent down to lick at John's softening shaft, taking it into his mouth to suck on the oversensitive flesh.

Once John was completely soft, Greg pulled off with an intentionally loud "pop" sound and planted a sticky kiss on John's flushed cheeks. He let himself hover in front of John for a few moments, showing John his handiwork. John laughed breathlessly and reached out a finger to stroke Greg's face. John's cum had gotten everywhere; Greg's cheeks, mouth, forehead were all drenched in the sticky white substance. Some had even gotten into his hair.

"So, looks like Sherlock was right. You are loud." Greg teased John affectionately. John knocked him lightly on his head (the big one in case it was ambiguous) to tell him to shut up and enjoy the post orgasmic bliss.

"That's a rather good look on you detective. I'd love to see you wear it more often." John and Greg shared a tired laugh as Greg reached over John to grab a wad of tissues to clean up some of the mess so that it wouldn't drip everywhere. John pointed him in the direction of the shower and he decided against a full clean up. Greg motioned for John, whose cock was still out with his pants and trousers around his ankles, to come along; but John promptly declined.

"I'll clean up around here. Don't want to give Sherlock too much information. Not that he would need more of it though,” John explained, a small smile on his face. A small flash of hurt flittered through Lestrade for only a split second and a nagging, unwanted thought bore fruit in his mind. Greg immediately shot the thought dead and buried its corpse in the back of his mind. Of course he wouldn’t want to give Sherlock too much information, but he definitely didn’t think that there was a need to hide it all. After all, Sherlock had probably already deduced Greg’s sexuality and John's preference for a nice thick cock over women by now.

Greg walked out the door and crossed the hallway to the toilet. As he did so, he thought that he caught side of a figure walking by. He was too tired to bother with investigation and in any case not appropriately decent to face anyone but John right now. Lestrade stood over the toilet sink, water running from the faucet. He had managed to wash off the majority of the semen from his face but some still stuck firmly in his hair and on his cheeks. Without him noticing, it had also dropped down onto his shirt, exacerbating the sticky mess that was already on it.

Greg peeled off his clothes and tossed them onto a pile in the corner, stepping into the shower. The water was wonderfully warm and inviting and Greg took his time enjoying his shower. There were two bottles of soap and two bottles of shampoo sitting on a caddy in the shower. It was fairly obvious even without deduction as to who owned which ones. The generic, Tesco branded bottles were clearly John’s considering his lack of any interest in anything materialistic while the other branded bottles that Greg couldn’t even begin to pronounce obviously belonged to Sherlock. He grabbed the Tesco bottles and soaped up, humming as he did. Jennie had always found that trait of his annoying while they were married. In the 6 months they dated she had said it was an adorable trait of his. Oh how her tunes had changed after she vowed to stay loyal to him till death. That was a rather good joke wasn’t it?

As he was washing out the shampoo from his hair, Lestrade heard movement and the sound of the door opening and shutting. He assumed it was John, preparing to join him as he was done in the room, perhaps for a second round. If it was then John would have to settle for being disappointed by the silver fox. He would need at least an hour before he could try going for seconds. If John was lucky then half an hour might be enough.

Greg shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, pulling a fluffy white towel from the airing cabinet to dry himself off with. On the counter next to the sink sat a pile of Lestrade’s clothes: a pair of sweats, his boxer briefs and a snug hoodie. He hadn’t packed anything too stylish as he planned to go back to his flat tomorrow morning or something, but now he had begun to wonder if he would need to leave so early. After all, John might enjoy a quickie in the morning before breakfast. Greg simply assumed that John had come in and left the clothes for him as he had forgotten them downstairs and so didn’t pay too much attention to their presence in the toilet. In fact, in the afterglow of his experience with John, Lestrade had completely forgotten that the man had a flatmate.

Greg whistled happily as he crossed back from the toilet to John's bedroom, hands in his hoodie pockets. When he walked in, John had already pulled his trousers back on and covered up. He was bent over on all fours on the floor, using a wet wipe to wipe up some of the mess that was on the floor. Greg found his position rather inviting and bent down to give him a light smack on his bum.

"Hey!" John called out and turned around with a scrawl. When he realised it was Lestrade, the anger on his face melted and turned into humour. "Oh it's you, you dirty old bugger." Greg gave John a gentle shove which sent him falling backwards onto the floor and he moved to straddle John, pining him down.

"Oi watch that mouth of yours, or I just might have to kiss you to stop you from talking lad. And you're not that young either, you're what? 33? 34?"

"35 actually."

"Grandpa," Greg teased and pulled John up. He gave John a quick pat on the back and motioned him outside. "Go have a shower. I'll be waiting here for you."


	11. You Fancy Gavin?

John fished about in his dresser for some clothes and slid off into the toilet for a shower. Once he was finished, he stepped out, dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of sweats. John skipped down the stairs to the kitchen to put the kettle on and make some tea for the two of them. While the water was boiling, John fetched two mugs and some teabags for them. He had noticed earlier that Greg took his tea black and thus left it plain for him. He added a little milk and sugar to his own mug and poured the water in as the kettle whistled. John found it rather odd, but he had to admit that he was enjoying himself. Even if it was just a little bit. He found this domestic bliss, tea and sex with Greg fairly enjoyable. It was something that he could get used to.

John caught his mind daydreaming and snapped back into the present. Behind him, he heard footsteps and he turned around, fully expecting to see Greg. Instead, he was greeted by Sherlock who now seemed wide awake.

"Sherlock, mate I thought you were having a kip?" John asked, surprised. Sherlock let out a small sigh and rolled his eyes, gesturing to John for a cup.

"Well I was enjoying my peace and rest. But all good things come to an end don't they?" Sherlock answered in his typical, cryptic manner. His tone of voice seemed tinged with a bitter emotion, something like resentment. But John knew that the resentment was not directed at him. Sherlock never kept anything hidden. If he disliked you, you would know. Just ask Anderson.

"Sherlock what are you going on about?" John questioned him, leaning back against the counter.

"John," He started off, "do I really need to give you a run down of the events? Surely you were present? In any case let's have a quick recap of what happened shall we? You and Lestrade were sitting there on our sofa roughly 5 feet apart because the two of you think that's the appropriate amount of distance to indicate that neither of you are homosexuals which you both are though there's nothing unnatural with that, plainly obvious if you ask me. Then, you two had a nice little chat which resulted in the two of you exchanging saliva and very desperate kisses judging from the impressions left on the sofa. The marks on the floor are fresh and indicate that you lot were rough going towards and up the stairs and that shows lust and desire clouding your better judgements. Now on your door there is a new micro abrasion that corresponds with your height but the pressure applied on it doesn't seem to suggest that you merely ran into the door but rather there was the weight of two persons on it which leads me to conclude that Lestrade had you pinned against the door. Now on the door knob there are more scuff marks which support my case for Lestrade being on top of you as the added weight and stress of his body would undoubtedly have caused the door knob to feel some extra pressure. Now into your room which I did not enter but do not need to do so to know what had happened inside. Isn't that right John? Will your papa verify this?"

John looked at Sherlock, stunned. While he wasn't surprised that he found out, he was surprised at how he seemed to react. Sherlock seemed upset. So Greg was right, he was loud.

"Don't worry John, I could hear Lestrade plain as day too. He's not what one would call quiet in the bedroom." Sherlock's eyes burned judgement into John. Suddenly, John felt embarrassed to have done that with Greg. His embarrassment quickly turned to apathy however since he realised that Sherlock was being childish.

"Sherlock, look," He shook his head and began to explain, "This isn't some casual shag for me. I think I really do fancy Greg. He's a good man, he cares. And he is of course a bloody good shag but that's not my point here with him. And I know that you're worried this will impact us and everything else but I can promise you it won't. We can still solve cases and Greg is still going to call us to help out. We won't abandon you Sherlock, we just couldn't do that." Sherlock blinked blankly for a few minutes, staring into space.

"Mate? Sherlock? You there?" Sherlock didn't respond to John. It was getting to be very creepy. John was actually worried for him now.

"You, think you 'fancy' Gavin?" Sherlock spelled it out, putting extra emphasis and irony on the word "fancy" in addition to his air quotes.

"It's Greg, Sherlock. Learn the man's name at least. If not for him then for me. And yes I do think I fancy Greg. Like I said, he's a funny, charming and sweet man. He's sensitive and he has a heart. Give him a chance Sherlock, you know better than anyone how he's been hurt."  
  
"And I just plainly don't understand John. You. With. Him. I-"  
  
"Mate, just. I don't need you to understand it or him or me Sherlock. Just, piss off would you mate? I'll explain it sometime. For now, just let the man be. Can you do that Sherlock?" Sherlock's eyes squinted slightly and John didn't wait for a reply before he grabbed the two steaming hot mugs of tea and disappeared upstairs again. He pushed the door to his room open and was greeted by the sight of a tired detective inspector sprawled out on all fours on his bed.

John smiled softly and set the mugs down on the bedside table. Using his arms, he shifted Greg over a little to sit down and this action roused Greg. Greg looked around blankly for a few moments before he realised who was next to him. The events of the past few hours quickly came rushing back in and a goofy smile spread across his face.

So it hadn't been a dream after all, Greg thought. Lestrade allowed his head to fall back gently on a pillow and he settled back onto John's soft and very comfortable bed. Recently he had taken to sleeping on either the sofa or the floor after arguing with Jennie or having caught her again. It was nice to be able to sleep on a bed again, especially without any bitter feelings. John reached out to poke Greg's side.

"Tea?" He offered the black mug to Greg. Greg lifted one eye open and sat up to accept it. "I made it black and strong, just like you like it." Greg took a sip of the piping hot drink and closed his eyes to savour the taste of it. He was rather amazed that John knew how he took his tea, even Jennie hadn't bothered to learn. Lestrade leaned in closer to John and pulled him in so that he wasn't on the edge of the bed.

"And how'd you know that I took it like this John?" Greg asked, genuinely interested. John bit his lower lip and fidgeted a little bit. His eyes flickered up and down nervously, trying to read Greg's expression. All he could make of it was fatigue and delight in Greg's eyes and posture. Greg wasn't even sitting upright, he had propped himself up against the headboard (which about 10 minutes ago John was moaning against) and some pillows. John felt the heat rising up in his face and his neck, his heartbeat quickened and grew more and more deafening with each pulse. John licked his lips and swallowed, his Adam's Apple bobbing up and down.

"I uh, noticed it downstairs. You know, when we were talking and all, before the—" Before John could finish trembling his words out, Greg had leaned it to kiss him. Greg didn't apply any force or aggression this time, and as such it was a soft, sweet kiss. Greg's lips were softened by the warm shower he had taken and they were delightfully inviting to John. The policeman pulled away after a few blissful moments and smiled coyly at the doctor.

John was flustered and it showed. His eyes frantically darted about, looking for something to rest on that wasn't Lestrade's handsome face. John didn't think he could stand looking at him. It was too hard to do that. He felt like a little schoolboy once again.

"Before that happened you mean?" Greg asked, reaching out with his thumb to stroke John's chin. Using his fingers, he held John's chin and lightly drew lines on his lower lip.

"Yeah, before that happened." John licked his lips again, lightly wetting the tip of Greg's thumb. Greg moved his hand to John's cheeks and slowly drew absentminded circles around it.

"I like it when you do that. The tongue thing," Greg said as he lifted his drink for another sip. He inhaled the strong aroma and savoured the strong, full bodied taste of his hot cuppa. It was steeped perfectly; just the way he liked it. He was amazed that John could get it right after seeing him drink it only once. He looked over at John who was now eyeing him intently. John was enjoying the view before him: a handsome, relaxed and freshly showered silver fox in his bed; Christmas was early it seemed. When Greg caught John staring, he quickly looked away.

"It's good," Greg said as he set his now empty cup down on the bedside table. Lestrade cupped John's face in his hand as he set his own empty cup down and pulled John into a soft kiss. Greg gently nibbled on John's lip and pulled on it with his teeth, creating a gateway for his tongue to enter. Slowly sliding his tongue in, Greg explored the vast depths of John's warm mouth as John used his fingers to caress Greg's stubbly cheeks. Taking a deep breath in, John placed his hand on Greg's chest and hesitated for a split second before applying a small amount of pressure to push him onto the bed.

John tumbled onto Lestrade, his knees on either side of Greg's body. Their lips never parted but remained intact, closed together. John pulled away, Greg reaching out to hold his hand. The doctor ran his palms up and down Greg's torso, feeling the heat radiating from the body beneath him and the soft material of Greg's hoodie. John leaned down and gently laid his head onto Greg's chest, letting his head rest completely on Greg. Greg reached up and stroked John's head affectionately.

"What do you want to do now John?" Greg whispered into his head, the hand on John's back drawing small circles around. John looked up at Greg who was now smiling down back at him.

"Could we just stay like this? Cuddle maybe? Unless you'd rather do something else?" John pushed himself up, taking Greg's hand in his own. Greg had working men hands, rough and toughened by daily manual work. They felt strong however; and in holding it, John felt secure, safe even. Greg laid on the bed, not moving. His brown eyes met John's blue ones. Lestrade felt John's gaze pierce him. It was warm and full of affection however, something Greg wasn't used to. It made him uncomfortable and uneasy.

"I'd like nothing better." John smiled at Lestrade's reply and laid down to face Greg on his side. He scooched in closer, putting his cheek on Greg's chest. Greg wrapped his arms around John and hooked a leg over his body, forming a cocoon around the smaller man. It had been a long time since he had spooned someone else, and it felt really good for Greg. This was the plain, simple life he wanted. A warm body to be with at night and good conversation. John nuzzled Greg's chin playfully and pushed his head into the small crease between Greg's shoulder and neck, leaving his head there. Greg could feel every breath John took on his neck, and he could feel the movement of John's body as he inhaled and exhaled. Greg let himself enjoy this; being enjoyed by someone else. Being held. Being wanted.

"Greg?" Came the small whisper from John, buried in Greg's body.

"Hmm?"

  
  
"I think I'm falling in love," John stated plainly before dozing off on Lestrade's body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there :) I hoped you've enjoyed the domestic bliss in this chapter after the past two very amorous ones hehe. I might be stuck with a nasty bout of writer's block right now and I'm not sure I'll be able to finish up the next chapter in time :( Uni's just started for me and I suddenly don't have all the time in the world anymore but I'll try to keep to my regularly scheduled Friday updates :3 In any case, please please please keep reading, commenting and leaving kudos! They're very much appreciated <3\. (Also did anyone catch the vine reference that Sherlock made hehe, let me know if you did ;) )


	12. He Left

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there everyone! I've been having a bout of writer's block lately and I just can't for the life of me figure out the next chapter :( so apologies in advance if a chapter doesn't come out next week! I'll try to think of something, but some comments or any suggestions from you lot would definitely help out too! In any case enjoy reading :3!

Lestrade laid in the bed, arms around John. His nerves were wrecking him senseless. His heartbeat had quickened, and his breathing was no longer easy and gentle. They had turned into fast, deep breaths that quivered with panic. Greg couldn't feel his hands; they had turned to stone and remained wrapped around John. Greg looked down to him. This couldn't be true. It couldn't be happening. No. Not to him. Not possible.

John Watson was an amazing, incredible man with a spectacular personality and looks that men would kill for. Greg looked over at the mirror perched on top of John's dresser. He could see them, intertwined like lovers would be on the bed. He saw himself too, but as he perceived: Greg Lestrade was an old, greying man who was well past his prime. He had lost the toned body he had in the past, his stamina couldn't keep up in bed anymore. He didn't understand current trends. He couldn't live up to the expectations and demands of people. There was something wrong with him, he wasn't whole nor perfect. He was broken. No one was willing to stay with him until the end. Greg Lestrade was not a man worthy of love nor being loved. That was the Greg Lestrade that he saw in the mirror daily. It's a wonder that he avoids the mirror whenever he can.

Greg had it too good for it to be true. There were so many men in London, and the world, it simply wasn't possible for John Watson to love him. It wasn't. He couldn't possibly deserve John. In fact, it wasn't possible for anyone to want what was best for Greg. Greg had learnt this the hard way. It was better to distance people before they distanced you. Greg thought hard about what he had heard and learnt about John's private sex life. John was no stranger to casual hook ups, and it was clear that John usually got the men he wanted. Lestrade's stomach sank at the thought. John must've merely been using him for a bit of fun for the night. Greg couldn't really fault John; he was an easy catch today. A sad, recently divorced bisexual-leaning-gay man who was hungry for just about any amount of affection and attention from someone. Greg would've gone for him too honestly.

John shifted in Greg's arms and turned so that his back was facing Greg. Greg moved one arm to John's waist and slid the other under his head to stroke John's hair. Greg took in the sight in front of him. As impossible as it was, it was happening. He was laying in the bed of John Hamish Watson, freshly showered and after John had made him a wonderful cuppa just the way he liked it. Did John really fancy him that way? John was being awfully nice to Lestrade, though he had to reason that John was generally a nice person. Lestrade remembered Sherlock's words from an old case: "Once you have eliminated the Impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." Was this the case with John, Greg wondered. All signs showed that John was rather affectionate with him and indicated that John saw Greg as more than a kiss and tell for his growing list but rather saw him as a long-term possibility.

Greg's mind swam with question upon question, but without an answer in sight. Suddenly, fatigue washed all over Greg, claiming his body for itself. His eyelids started to droop, and a yawn capsuled his face. Pulling John in closer, Greg planted a small kiss on the top of John's head, and he drifted off into an uneasy sleep. Randomly, Greg would wake up and feel John's warm body in his hands again before slipping back into unconsciousness.

When he woke up for the last time, he felt parched. His throat was dry, and he could taste that waking up taste in his mouth. John had barely moved; in fact, Greg's arms were still holding him. Greg slowly untangled himself from John, careful not to rouse John from his sleep. Greg sat up for a moment, confused. The room had turned pitch black. The curtains hadn't been closed when they drifted off and this let in slivers of moonlight which danced on John's sleeping figure. He looked peaceful, happy even. Lestrade could make out a small smile creeping up from the corners of his mouth. He couldn't recall the last time he had seen his friend smile like that, and Greg loved the sight. He drank it up thirstily. Greg reached out with a finger to stroke John's cheek. This caused him to squirm a little and Greg pulled away.

He reached over past John and grabbed the cups from the bedside table, sliding off the bed gently and left the room to get a drink downstairs. Greg hopped down the stairs one by one and entered the kitchen. The lights were turned on and Sherlock was sitting at the table, staring into a microscope, and making notations on a pad next to him.

"John, pen." Sherlock motioned to Greg as he entered. He clearly hadn't seen who it was.

"I'm not John but where is it? I can fetch it for you." Sherlock's ears perked up at the sound of Greg's deep voice. His head immediately jerked up from the microscope and he turned the face Lestrade.

"I see you're still here Gavin."

"Greg." Greg sighed but had expected it. Shagging John didn't mean that Sherlock would magically remember his name.

"Yes, very good, even though John and you both prefer to refer to you as his 'papa'." Sherlock said the last word with both air quotations and an exaggerated face and tone of voice. Greg grimaced at Sherlock's tone of voice. They had been too loud. There was no hiding it from Sherlock now. He sucked on his teeth and drew a deep breath in.

"Yes, so John and I might have exchanged a blowjob. What's it to you Sherlock?" Greg sounded sour, he hadn't meant for it to come out like that, but he had wanted to show Sherlock that despite what he thought of it, Greg liked the relationship he had started developing with John and he intended to keep growing it. Sherlock's eyes pierced Greg like daggers. Greg could already see the deductions Sherlock was forming floating around Sherlock's head in big white print. He had to brace himself.

Sherlock stood up slowly, as if he were preparing for something. He looked rather upset to be honest. Greg almost scoffed. He was acting like a child. A territorial, possessive child.

"Look Sherlock, what I said was a bit harsh and I'm sorry if I sounded like a prick. But whatever it is that John and I are doing, it won't affect any of us. We're all still going to solve murders together and you'll still have John as your friend and partner. It won't change anything. Trust me Sherlock, I can promise you that." Greg ended with a soft smile, trying to soften the harshness of his tone with Sherlock. Sherlock stood still, silent, and unmoving. He strode over to Greg, standing up straight as a pole.

"Two nights," Sherlock said. Greg gave him a puzzled look. "Two. Nights. That's all I'm estimating." Greg still didn't understand. Sherlock took a deep breath in and his face shifted. He looked sad, regretful even. Greg both knew and was confused by the look. His stomach sank a little bit. He had no idea what Sherlock was about to say but if Sherlock opened his mouth then it can't possibly be a good thing to hear.

"What are you on about Sherlock?"  
  
"The two of you would last two days at most in a relationship. I'm sorry Lestrade but it's the truth." Greg stood rooted to the ground. His mouth went drier than it already was, and his mind went blank. Greg merely blinked at Sherlock, pressing for an explanation.

"Well then, would you be so kind as to _fucking explain_." Greg demanded in a harsh whisper. He didn't want to wake John up and upset him too. Sherlock's eyes flicked around the room before landing on Greg again.

"John says he fancies you and that you're a good man. While I don't disagree with his assessment of you as you are indeed an exceptionally good man, John is not the man for you and you not for him." Greg was almost furious at this point.

"Listen wanker, you don't know the first thing about me nor John or what's between us or what goes on in a romantic relationship." Greg pointed a finger accusingly at Sherlock.  
  
"Unfortunately, I do Lestrade. See, I may lack the human touch and understanding of love, but I do know it on a chemical level. John as a person is afraid of love, afraid of falling in love and vulnerability. Look at his level of promiscuity; he picks and chooses men he fancies, beds them, and then detaches himself from them. It's a tactic Lestrade. A clever, crafty technique that John uses to satisfy his natural, carnal needs but at the same time protecting himself. But while doing this, John is avoiding the need to fill a certain void in his life and as such this is the next best alternative available to him which he so happily indulges in." Sherlock looked Lestrade in the eye as he continued.

"However, I see that you on the other hand are not looking for something as temporary. You are hungry for a more permanent and substantial solution. That is something that John cannot offer you for he is fearful of the one thing that makes what you want successful: vulnerability. Hence, I still stand by my conclusion that even if you both did try extremely hard at it, your 'relationship' would last two nights at a generous estimate."

Sherlock's eyes flickered up and down, assessing Lestrade's reaction. Greg had barely been able to process this. He wanted to believe Sherlock was wrong and that he knew nothing about love or emotions or the complexity of a relationship that went beyond pure sex.

But of course, Sherlock Holmes couldn't be wrong, could he? The day he was is the day England would collapse. After all, he had been right about Jennie and the next-door PE teacher. That night was a loud night, filled with Greg shouting, Jennie screaming and them throwing things at each other. Greg had used the pillows and some old newspapers. Jennie had thrown plates and his hardbacks. Greg fumbled for words.

"Sorry Lestrade. Better now than later."

"You don't know us, Sherlock. You think you do but you don't. I," Greg tried to defend.... something, but he knew deep down that Sherlock couldn't be wrong. He didn't understand why he was getting so defensive. In fact, he had his own doubts, and this was merely a confirmation for him. Sherlock looked at Greg, his eyes soft. He really did seem to regret telling him this.

"I really am sorry Lestrade. Believe me or not but I am." Sherlock returned to his microscope, leaving Greg gawking in the doorway. Greg walked back out of the kitchen, leaving the mugs in the sink. He forgot all about his thirst and crept back up to John's bedroom where he sank into the chair that was in front of the desk. Greg flicked a switch to turn the lamp that was on the table on, and a soft, comforting light illuminated his side of the room. It wasn't too bright or jarring so as to wake John up, but it was enough to let him see John on the bed. His chest rose and fell gently with every breath he took. The doctor looked to be at peace, happy even, as he slept.

Greg thought back to what John said. "I think I'm falling in love." Now it was clear to Greg that John didn't mean that entirely. John was trying to get Greg to stay the night, perhaps he was even hoping for a second round the next morning. Greg's head fell into his hands and he rubbed his tired eyes. He had woken up feeling a little refreshed despite his mind, but now that felt like a million years ago. Greg looked up at John once more and got up to walk to him. Kneeling down, Greg gave John a soft kiss on his forehead before walking out of the room and gently closing the door behind him.

Greg tiptoed down the stairs and grabbed his bag from beside the sofa where he had abandoned it when he walked in a few hours ago and threw on a coat. He passed Sherlock, still sitting in the kitchen examining something under his microscope and stopped in his tracks to look at Sherlock once more. He looked up from his microscope and gave Lestrade a look. Greg couldn't read it and he frankly couldn't be bothered to read it. Greg flipped Sherlock off before storming out the door and rushing down the stairs. Inside the flat, the stomps of his footprints and the faint sound of him calling for a taxi could be heard from the kitchen; but not from the upstairs bedroom where John Watson laid, curled up and warm, asleep in his bed. Alone.

The next day, John was woken up by the slivers of sunlight dancing on his face. It felt like the morning was gently nudging his face, telling him to wake up. John stretched about in the bed and felt a certain lack of warmth and a curious surplus of space around him. He lazily reached out to his side, feeling for the warmth of a body. His hand only met with the silky sheets that he had recently washed. Groggily, John turned on his side to investigate. John opened his eyes and found a Greg shaped space on his bed that was filled the night before. The doctor sat up straight in his bed and looked around his room.

Maybe Greg was just playing around. God knows that man had a funny sense of humour. John ran a hand through his messy bedhead and pushed the covers off of him, letting his feet dangle above the cold floor. John noticed that the cups he had brought up the day before had gone missing and wondered if Greg had woken up earlier to make them breakfast or something. Perhaps Lestrade was just an early riser. Or maybe he couldn't sleep. Was John tossing about in bed? Did that turn Greg off or something? Oh God, maybe it pissed him off so much that he moved downstairs to the sofa.

The small doctor stood up and walked towards the door when his table caught his eye. The light was on. But he hadn't used it at all the previous day; moreover, he would have noticed it even if he had accidentally left it on because it was just something he would have noticed if he were going to shag Greg in his room. John was a stickler for saving electricity. Then, John noticed that his chair was out of place. It had been pulled out and it was facing the bed, where he slept. It began to seem rather puzzling to John. What could have happened? The soldier turned the light off and rearranged his furniture before leaving the room.

Making his way down the stairs, John called out Greg's name.

"Greg? Greg? Where are you? Greg?" John stepped into the kitchen to see if Greg was making coffee. That was when he caught sight of the mugs on the edge of the sink. Initially he was annoyed at the sight, thinking about the possibility that they would fall to the floor and shatter, but then he noticed the colours. One black, one white. Exactly like the ones he had used last night. For him, and Greg. He hadn't woken up at all last night and he wasn't one to sleepwalk. Sherlock might have invaded his and Greg's privacy to watch them cuddle for the sake of "investigation" but he didn't have the common human decency to take the cups out for them. This meant that there was only one possibility: Greg had gotten up in the middle of the night, come downstairs and something happened.

John's heart started racing and he immediately ran to check the windows for signs of forced entry or breakage. All of them were still bolted shut and not a single one was shattered. He then went to investigate the door which stood closed as it had been since he went upstairs with Greg. John looked around, confused. The door hadn't been compromised in any way whatsoever, but Greg had disappeared. John's mind began to wonder, he started to become worried. Had something horrible happened to him? Maybe someone was targeting either himself or Sherlock and Greg had happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and they had decided to just take him as insurance or as a substitute. John wouldn't be able to live with himself if that was the case. He just couldn't. He was the reason why Greg was even over at all. After all, he was the one who kissed Greg and led him on which led to them falling over each other here at Baker Street.

John heard the thump of footsteps behind him. He spun around, fully expecting someone to be there; Moriarty perhaps. That bastard could never stay dead, that was one thing that both Sherlock and Moriarty shared—among other slightly annoying qualities. But it wasn't Jim, it was Sherlock. His polar opposite in every way. John heaved a sigh of relief and walked over to Sherlock, ready to explain everything.

"Sherlock! Lestrade's missing. He was upstairs when we went to bed yesterday and today when I woke up I couldn't find him anywhere! Something's happened to him, I just know it! Look at the cups in the kitchen. I brought them up yesterday to have some tea with him and now they're downstairs in the kitchen. Obviously that means he came downstairs and someone got him, right?! And it couldn't have been either of us who-" Sherlock grabbed John firmly by the shoulders and stopped him from blabbering on further. Biting his tongue, Sherlock had to physically restrain himself from calling John stupid. He knew what his friend was going through at the moment mentally speaking and he didn't want to agitate him further. It was fairly obvious really, the dilated pupils, deeper and faster inhalation and his elevated pulse. All pointing to signs of adrenaline coursing through his veins. John was ready to move.

"John, calm down John. Look at me." Sherlock forced John to look him straight in the eye. His hands were clasped on either side of John's head. John closed his eyes and did as Sherlock instructed him to. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, letting his breath calm himself down. He opened his eyes again and Sherlock released John from his grasp.

"John," Sherlock began, "Last night, Lestrade left."


	13. Here We Go Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I finally managed to knock something out here hehe :3 really sorry that I couldn't post anything up last week, uni's been absolutely mad for me and I finally managed to finish my essay last week :D but in classic uni fashion, once i submitted one essay I got another 2 assigned :/ Anyways, I hope you like this chapter and if you do like it don't forget to drop a comment sharing your thoughts! :)

John went catatonic, unable to process what Sherlock had just said. His mind ran wild, questions forming faster than the words to express them could.

"No. You're lying. I know you are. You probably scared him off didn't you Sherlock? Threaten Lestrade, maybe you even used Mycroft. I bet you did didn't you?" John marched right up to Sherlock and pointed a finger accusingly at him. His deeply red face was a mere two inches away from Sherlock's. The detective however, kept his cool in spite of the outburst his friend had just displayed.

The calm look of emptiness in Sherlock's eyes told John everything he needed to know. Sherlock wasn't lying to him or conducting some sort of behavioural experiment with him as the subject. Sherlock was telling the truth. The cold, hard truth that Greg had hooked up with him and left in the middle of the night. John tossed himself onto the sofa and let his head hang in his hands.

_Stupid, stupid, bloody fucking stupid_ , John scolded himself. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes, threatening to spill out onto his face which was now burning red hot with embarrassment, anger, humiliation and confusion all wrapped up in a nice little package. And to top it all off, the bow on top of the wrapper was the fact that Sherlock knew everything. John couldn't even suffer or hurt in peace without another soul knowing. He could have kept it between Greg and himself; he could have never gone to another crime scene, he could have just set up his own little clinic to practice, he could have moved out of London. Or better yet, he could've done what he had been doing all this while: forget him and move on to the next handsome fellow.

John sat up straight and took a deep breath in, fighting the tears back. _You're a sodding soldier_ , he reminded himself, _so act like one dammit_. John stood up again and walked around the living room aimlessly. Suddenly, John pieced it all together. Greg used him as a rebound. Of course he would. It was simple, obvious really now that John had time to think about it. Lestrade was a detective inspector and part of his job was to read people. John had never been too good at hiding his feelings for the man anytime he was around, and clearly Lestrade had picked up on it. How could he not? And he had made himself so easy for Greg, kissing him at the restaurant, paving the road for what had eventually happened. It was all so stupid of him. He really couldn't believe how stupid he had gotten. It was awful really.

John's humiliation and disappointment turned into anger. He was furious, offended even, that Greg would treat him like this. He always considered Greg to be a very close friend, and a good man at that, and he always presumed that Greg saw him in the same way and would accordingly treat him with some level of respect. Right now, John wanted to be alone more than anything. And so, alone he went; marching up the stairs back to his room where he slammed the door shut. Sherlock knew better than to bother him; after all, the consulting detective wasn't very good with human emotions.

⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓

It could be approximated that a week passed without incident in Baker

Street. As upset as John was, he didn't allow his emotions to get the better of him; though it would certainly most convenient for him to have yelled at Sherlock for the most trivial of issues such as putting the kettle on the wrong shelf; or for finishing the last of the milk; or for sitting on the sofa differently, John knew that such behaviour was childish at best and abusive at worse. In any case, Sherlock would have simply responded with some observation that he had picked up, and that would have probably infuriated John further.

Yes indeed it was a queer week. There had been no cases to pursue, not even a "boring" client as per Sherlock's standards. In fact, there hadn't been any clients at all. Not one soul rang their doorbell. Not having a case to solve wasn't something new, the detective was known to be picky about the cases he took up, but not having a client at all was, to say the least, odd.

Even Sherlock had been acting odd, relatively speaking of course. He hadn't been his "normal" self the entire week. Rather, he had been in the flat with John, fetching dinners from Mrs Hudson downstairs, performing quiet and unobtrusive experiments, and most interestingly, watching bad telly with John without snide comments.

John was close to describing the week as a relief after the incident with Greg, but as always, the universe could never rest easy knowing things were going well. It was a Friday when Sherlock had gotten the call. The detective had nearly jumped out of his seat when the mobile rang. He had been itching for some action, for some death, and for some murder. Had he not been stuck in the flat with John he might've snuck some cocaine in or a spot of morphine. Sherlock was practically bouncing off the walls with unresolved detective energy.

"Of course I'm coming Lestrade! You couldn't solve it if the answer was staring you in the face, which despite my not being there I already assume is." Sherlock hung up the phone and rose to grab his coat from the hanger. He paused in front of John, waiting for the doctor to join him.

"No," Came the curt, but unsurprising, response.

"I'm not asking John. And I should point out that this is highly irregular for you."  
  
"You want to talk about being irregular? You've been positively regular this whole week!" John raised his voice slightly but lowered it after reminding himself that Sherlock was not the source of his anger. He took a deep breath in and sighed. "Sherlock, I'm sorry."

"No need for apologies, I'd much rather you pick up your coat and accompany me to assist Lestrade. Perhaps you might find that to be a better outlet." Sherlock didn't even wait for John to get up and instead fetched his coat for him. As unhappy as he was about it, John didn't protest any further.

It was a fairly long cab ride, taking them all the way to the other side of London where a large open field with three bodies arranged in the shape of a "U" stood swarming with tape, the press and of course, Scotland Yard delegates. John could already feel the lump in his throat swelling up, that feeling of discomfort welling up inside of him and threatening to invade every inch of his body. John took a deep breath and told himself to face it like a man. Oh why did he agree to come with Sherlock?

Pacing around the bodies with Anderson was the very man he dreaded facing. But despite everything, John still found himself inexplicably attracted to the grey haired detective walking about, barking orders out. He still carried with him the same air of authority that made John give in the first time; the handsome face still hadn't changed one bit, it still made John lick his lips and think unholy thoughts. And of course, just by looking at his hands, John could immediately recall the feeling of them on his body, in his hair, all over his most intimate areas. John bit his lip, he still felt for Lestrade. Maybe it was the sentiment, maybe it was his loneliness talking. Whatever it was, John Watson was clear that he was not in love with Greg Lestrade. He had moved on from that fantasy. It wouldn't be possible for that to happen, Greg had made that much clear to him.

As the duo approached the policeman, Greg noticed the murder solving pair walking up to him. Before Greg had even opened his mouth to explain the case and what they had found, Sherlock had already begun rattling off deductions and observations to him. Greg hadn't exactly called Sherlock in for his help, though he needed it, but rather he had wanted a reason to see John again. He knew how he left the man was wrong and he really did mean to call the next day, or at least drop a text. But Lestrade just didn't know what to say. What could he say? He wanted to think of a good explanation, some justifiable reason why he left. He didn't want to hurt John. But, the more he thought about it, the more uncertain he was of his next course of action. Soon, an hour turned into two, which melted into eight, and then twenty-four, and before he knew it, three days had passed, the cycle was to continue.

Seeing John marching up towards him in his classic soldier boy's style made Greg swallow. The doctor might have been small, but he was intimidating. It was incredibly arousing for Greg to see it, but he had to maintain his composure. It wouldn't do well for the press to see a detective inspector walk around with a boner on the field, they'd have a field day with it (no pun intended). Putting his face in his hands, Greg pointed Sherlock to Donovan.

"Sherlock, rattle your theories off to Donovan will you? John, if you could come and examine the bodies please. This way if you would," Lestrade said, pointing towards the corpses. John didn't utter a word but merely gave him a curt, professional nod. Greg sighed internally. Yes, he had royally fucked up. John went up to the bodies and squatted down. Greg had prepared a pair of gloves for him and John took them without so much as some eye contact.

"Would you like a coffee? It's a bit too early for a triple murder isn't it?" Greg attempted the friendly, casual approach. He could almost hear John cringe, he knew that it was a bad attempt; but no attempt is worse than a bad one isn't it?

"Lestrade, this is a crime scene, not a café," John replied with a hint of ice in his voice. Greg winced a little but he wasn't shocked. He admitted he did deserve it, just a little bit. John closed his eyes and bit his own tongue. That was _a little bit_ harsh, even for John. "But thank you for asking anyway Greg. I've already had my morning tea so I'm well caffeinated." John attempted to soften the blow of his statement with a friendlier tone of voice.

Greg nodded and paced around, waiting to hear what John had concluded.

"Cause of death, blunt force trauma to the head. Each of them in the same spot. Now this is interesting, an incision on both wrists, and they all happen to share that as well. Inflicted after death I think, judging from the colour." John stood up once he was done, peeling the gloves off. It was the first time the men had made eye contact and it felt like the first time all over again. For a split second, both of them had their hearts on display for the other to see; but of course, neither saw it.

"I wonder what kind of theories Sherlock's got," Greg wondered aloud before looking away very quickly. John was glad he did. He didn't think he could resist those dark brown eyes. They were warm and full of emotion, begging John to forgive him. As much as John denied it, he knew he would've done so in a heartbeat.

They broke their gaze quickly, neither wanting to give the other the wrong impression. Greg reached up to awkwardly ruffle his hair. It was a bad habit he had. John caught sight of it and bit his lower lip. He never noticed how amazingly attractive Lestrade was by just doing something so simple. Of course Greg didn't catch John looking since his own gaze was directed downwards to the floor. The corpses beside them looked more interesting at the moment. John coughed slightly to get Greg's attention and the silver haired man looked up.

"Should we um, go over there then?" John asked, pointing at the general direction of somewhere. Greg opened his mouth but left it as a general O shaped hole. Without waiting for a reply, John stalked off, leaving Lestrade trailing behind. For a small person, John could walk surprisingly fast. Although Greg could, he chose not to catch up to John. He still hadn't figured out what to say.

As they got closer to Sherlock and Donovan, who now looked thoroughly exasperated, the skies darkened quickly. The sky which was filled with white fluffy clouds (to John's frustration) was now an angry shade of dark. Thunder clapped in the distance, signalling rain. Before anybody could ask Sherlock what his theory was, he had already called for quiet; Anderson had even taken the liberty to turn around for Sherlock.

"I need to think," Sherlock said to no one in particular. Another roar of thunder echoed around them before large drops of rain began falling like bullets. The few drops quickly turned into a heavy thunderstorm and the people on the field immediately scrambled for cover. Somehow, Sherlock, Greg and John had ended up in Lestrade's car, slightly damp but nonetheless fine. Sherlock took a quick glance at his companions and shook his head before opening the car door again.

"No. Not with you two. I need absolute quiet right now. John, find your own cab." Without letting either of them respond, he exited the car and slammed it shut. As his figure disappeared, the rain got heavier and heavier, completely dashing John's hopes of getting out to find a cab. He sulked in the passenger's seat of Lestrade's shiny black Audi and tried to turn his body away from his colleague. Greg took a deep breath in and decided that enough time had passed for him to grow a pair.

"Baker Street is awfully far away. It'll be an Olympic Sport catching a cab in this weather and this far away. My flat's rather close by, if you want to spend a few hours there waiting the storm out," Greg offered, trying to sound friendly. He was very well aware of how the suggestion could be interpreted. He may have been stupid but he wasn't an idiot. Greg didn't get a response from the doctor, apart from a quiet scoff. "Or I could just drive you back to Baker Street if you'd much rather prefer?" This time it came out more obviously as a question to John.

"I'd really rather dance in the rain the whole way back," John replied sourly. Greg sighed, this was to be expected. Again he didn't blame John in the slightest; he felt the man was justified really. He would've done the same thing.

"John look I'm trying to be civil about this, please don't be mean about it. Can I at least feed you up or something?" John was about to reject Lestrade coldly when his stomach gave him away by growling loudly in protest. His face turned beet red and he refused to look back at Greg. Awkwardness hung in the air. Greg waited patiently for John to answer him. "No matter what your answer is, I'm not about to let you walk anywhere in this rain."

Eventually, John lost the game of silence and begrudgingly accepted Lestrade's offer. Partly because he was sodding hungry, partly because he really wanted a nice warm shower, partly because he just wanted to be petty and take some food from Greg, but a small part of him also relented because of the implicit begging in Greg's words. Although John couldn't see him, he could hear the pain, hurt and begging in Greg's voice. John couldn't bear to see, or hear, Greg hurting. _The man did just have his marriage break down, least I could do would be to not make his life harder_ , John thought to himself.  


"Oh fine, but only because I'm hungry," John grumbled and sat up properly in the seat to fasten his seatbelt. He could almost hear Lestrade smiling in the driver's seat. "You better have a good pie somewhere."  
  
"I can stop by and get one for you. Chicken and cheese sound good to you?" John merely rolled his eyes at Lestrade.

"Anything sounds good to me as long as it's free."


	14. Couldn't We Have Just Talked?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope you love this new chapter, it's a rather long one but you'll see why I didn't want to separate it up hehe :3 As usual, I hope everyone's safe and sound and please do remember to leave kudos or comments if you liked this chapter. I'd really like to hear everyone's thoughts on my treatment of Greg :3 Before I leave, I want to wish everyone a happy Lunar New Year if you're celebrating :D
> 
> p.s a very big shoutout to cococrispy for basically writing this chapter with me!

No less than thirty minutes later, Lestrade was unlocking his door, a whole pie in hand and a six-pack of beer in John's hands. Using his foot, Greg kicked the door open and dumped the pie on the kitchen counter, immediately going back to John to fetch the beer for him. Alright, Greg admitted he was being very servantly with John but that wasn't some ploy or cheap trick to win John over; he knew that the doctor was far above that. He just knew how to remedy things, or at least he thought he did.

"I can gather some clothes for you. The hot water's all yours, leave your things in the basin and I'll toss them into the laundry later with mine. I'll set the things out now so that you can eat once you're done," Greg explained with an awkward smile. John returned it quickly and ducked into the toilet which Greg had pointed to.

John did feel a little guilty about the whole situation, what with letting Greg wait on him like a servant, throwing him dirty looks, being icy cold. Greg had taken it all in stride, as if he knew he was wrong but wanted to show John how much he understood that and how much Greg wanted to change it for him. It wasn't really justified was it? His anger, his emotions. He meant to pout a little bit just to make it obvious that he was extremely unhappy with Greg, but now John began to wonder if he had gone slightly too far with it.

The hot shower felt amazing for John. The rain had left him shivering, though he refused to let Greg see it, and he was eager to get out of the damp jumper and shirt he had on. Humming as he rinsed the soap off his body, John heard the door creak open slightly and braced himself. He then remembered that Greg had promised to get some fresh clothes for him and relaxed a little bit. There was a rattling sound followed by the sound of a cup falling from the counter and then a finale of Greg muttering a fairly quiet "fuck" under his breath. As John turned the water off, Greg scrambled to put the things back where they were and scurried out of the toilet.

John found that a rather amusing scene, even though neither man had seen the other thanks to the translucent door separating the shower from the rest of the toilet, because of the fact that they had already been rather intimate. Upon hearing the door shut, John turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, immediately wrapping himself up in a fluffy bathrobe that wasn't on the counter before. Greg must've put it there for him. Now John really felt guilty. The clothes were already a nice enough gesture considering John's childish behaviour, but the bathrobe really wasn't necessary.

Still stinging with guilt, John pulled on Greg's jumper and a pair of old joggers. The joggers fit him surprisingly well, but from the look of them they were very well worn too. Likely from Greg's university days. The jumper was a faded red colour and a little too large for John. Nonetheless, beggars can't be choosers now can they? Though Greg had requested he leave his clothes in the basin, John simply brought them out with him.

When he entered the kitchen/dining room again, he found two sets of cutlery sitting on the table with a pie on each plate and a beer next to one of them. John didn't see Greg anywhere. From the back of the flat came some sounds and John went to investigate. When he pushed the door open, he was met with a half-dressed detective inspector who was jumping up and down trying to force his trousers on. John couldn't help but burst out laughing. Greg's face turned a deep shade of red as he hurriedly forced his clothes on.

"You know, most of us adults would just stick one foot in and then the other? What are you, a 4 year old tyke?" John teased Greg, momentarily forgetting his sourness. Greg rolled his eyes and tightened the drawstring of his trousers.

"Bugger off. Children could teach us a thing or two, like not murdering people. Come on, give it here," Greg said, indicating for John to toss the bundle of clothes to him, "The washing machine's through the kitchen. I've set up a plate for you; the one with a beer's yours. Go on ahead and start up the telly if you fancy." John tossed the clothes at Greg who caught them quite expertly in one hand. Smirking at John, Greg gave him a proud look and slunk off to start up a load.

John walked back to the kitchen and started on his pie. A few minutes later, Greg came back into the dining room to join him. The men sat in rather awkward silence, with only the clinks of silverware accompanying them. Sometimes there would be the occasional sip of beer and the thud of the can against the table, but it was mostly silence. Greg hadn't really looked up from his food throughout the meal, and even when he did it was usually to look up at the walls or the window where some bird was chirping somewhere. John on the other hand focused all his attention on Greg. He wanted to say something, start the conversation. But he didn't know what to say, or even what conversation he wanted. Was he ready to unpack that Pandora box?

As he sat with his arms across his chest, John didn't realise that Greg had in fact already finished and was getting up to do the dishes. Even John's plate had disappeared. As the water ran out of the tap, Greg began soaping up the plates and silverware and rinsing them off.

"You know you don't have to do it right?" John suddenly spoke up, standing up to make his way over to Greg. He meant for it to come out as a sort of starter, telling Greg that he was over it. That Greg didn't need to "prove" anything. Catching himself just in time, John stopped his hand from reaching out for Greg's. Greg remained silent, merely drying the dishes with a cloth.

"Do what?" Greg finally replied him. There was an undetectable something in his voice. Was it, quivering? That would mean Greg was scared. John didn't think that possible. Greg didn't get scared. Right? John sighed.

"You know what I mean detective. I'm over it." John didn't meant to sound entitled or anything but unfortunately for him it did.

"I'm sorry but 'it'? John, do you think I did this to get you back?" Greg tossed the cloth he was holding away and turned to face John, leaning against the counter with his hands folded across his chest. "I did this because you're a friend John. I didn't do this so that I could get in your pants again."  
  
"Oh so you're saying that all of that last week was just to get in my pants?" John raised his voice slightly at Greg, trying not to shout. But he still let his volume go up ever so slightly just so he could assert how upset he was.

"God no! John! Of course it wasn't; why would I go through all of that just to sleep with you?" Greg reacted to the increase in John's volume with his own mini shout and he could now feel the sensation of adrenaline coursing through his veins. In his head, in his arms and tightly in his chest.  
  
"Oh so now that you've had a free sample, you're just going cherry picking then?" John whined back childishly.

"John what the fuck? That's not the issue here at all, the issue here is-"  
  
"Listen you fox, the issue here is that you just up and left in the middle of the night after sleeping with me, after I let everything out, and after I said what I said. Now of course I regret saying such a silly thing, but I didn't expect that you'd just, you know, _leave_ like a twat!" John slammed his hands on the counter top, now refusing to lower his voice.  
  
"Do you even remember the reason we ended up in that position? _You_ were the one who fucking kissed me in the restaurant!" Greg now pointed a finger angrily at John, trying to defend himself. He too was now shouting at the top of his lungs, trying to out class John in volume. Both of them were seeing red.

"And I knew that was a mistake! But you wanted a second try remember?" The glasses beside him quivered with fear as John hollered back at Greg defiantly.

"I thought that there was, I dunno, _something_ there? You can't possibly tell me that you didn't enjoy what we did, or that you didn't want what we did. For fuck's sake John you were an absolute tart! We had a connection John, even if it was a fleeting one."  
  
"Well firstly, a big _fuck you_ too. I am _not_ a tart. And secondly, if you're contending that we had a connection then why the fuck did you fucking leave!" John practically shouted the final part. His nostrils flared and his face burnt bright red with anger. All the emotions that John had told himself to suppress were now bubbling up to the surface and they threatened to spill out onto everything.

"What?" Greg replied, confused. He could feel the colour draining from his face and the fight leaving his body. This was an uphill battle, and a war that he couldn't win; and that was because he had shot himself right in the foot before it even began.

"You heard me Lestrade. What did I do wrong? What was so bad that you had to _leave_?" John started out loudly, but as he continued his voice began to falter; tears threatened to betray him just as his heart had been betrayed. Greg went catatonic, unable to answer John because he didn't have an explanation either. He couldn't tell John that he freaked out over Sherlock's comments, that would be silly of him. Greg felt guilt overwhelm him and he suddenly felt the need to apologise.

"John," He began weakly. His voice began to falter and a lump formed in his throat, "John look I didn't mean to. I really didn't. I know I should've called, I know I should've explained or at least dropped you a text. Really. Trust me please, I didn't want to hurt you like that. I'm really sorry John." Lestrade begged again. He couldn't afford to lose John too. Not after all the pain he's fought, he couldn't just lose this too.

"If you didn't want to hurt me then why did you get with me in the first place? You were the one who asked for it, but I was stupid enough to allow it to happen. I can't fucking believe this Greg," John said, frustrated. Greg reached out to stroke his arm but before he could even reach John, the smaller man smacked his hand away.

"Fuck off! I can't believe you! You're fucking pathetic, do you know that? I'm so fucking disgusted with you," John spat out at Greg. His voice was full of hate and anger. He had channelled all the feelings from the past week into these four sentences and it worked unfortunately well. John pushed Greg away forcefully and stormed off towards the door. "Go fucking kill yourself! See if I care!"

Greg's hip hit the counter roughly and he let out a groan of pain. A throbbing sensation started growing in his side. He had opened his mouth, intent on having the last say when John tossed out his final 2 cents. Suddenly, Greg's breathing stopped. A ringing sensation in his ear started humming and his head felt light. It was as if time had stopped and gravity ceased to function. Greg's heart started pounding wildly, running on the sudden exponential spike in adrenaline and a sharp pain wrapped its arms around Greg's chest. His legs slowly lost all sensation and his brow started spewing sweat.

John's words had sparked a memory in Greg. A memory he had wanted to bury deep, deep down together with the others that he loathed. He was taken twenty years back in time when he had heard those words for the first time. He remembered it all too clearly, despite his best efforts to bury it away.

Greg had caught Jennie for the first time. He was 27 and barely married a year to her. He had just been promoted and wanted to do a good job, and as usual the overtime pay made the option very attractive for him considering Jennie and him had just talked about buying their first house together; they had even considered having kids. He had walked back into their rented flat, dog tired and starving. It was 2 in the morning and Greg had just hauled a suspect into the station which meant he was landed with the brunt of the paperwork.

Greg peeled off his jacket and tossed it on the sofa, going into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. Jennie had refused to keep leftovers or dinner of any sort ready for him when he got back. Her reasoning being that cold food was a waste and that it wouldn't even taste good, so there wasn't a need for her to cook extra just for it to not be worthwhile. Greg thought that she had some fair logic at that point, though now he knew she was just being selfish and lazy, and never argued with her over it lest it became a gender role argument.

He had been buttering some toast when he heard the toilet flush and the door open. Again this was a miniscule flat and that meant that it was barely more than a studio apartment so Greg could see clearly who was coming out of the bathroom when he turned around.

"Sorry I'm late sweetheart, the amount of paperwork from that sodding bastard was just-" Greg's heart stopped for a moment while his eyes took in the scene before him. The knife he was holding clattered to the floor and the slice of bread fell onto the counter. A man, stark naked and wide eyed, looked right back at him. His expression was equally dumbfounded.

"Who the bleeding hell are you?" The other man asked Greg, covering himself with a pillow.

"I ought to ask you the same question mate. Who the fuck are _you_?" Greg asked back loudly, panic coursing through his veins. He tried to stay clam and collected, rationalising that panic wouldn't do him much good. He was worried for Jennie however. He thought this man was a burglar, but with the man's state of (un)dress his mind ran wild at what he might've done to Jennie.

From their shared bedroom, he heard the door creaking open.

"Jack, what's going on? I thought you said you were ready." It was her voice. She didn't sound frightened or scared. She sounded, normal. When Jennie walked out and locked eyes with Greg, the colour drained completely from her already pale face. Greg's breathing stopped for a moment, completely unable to process what was happening.

"Greg. Darling, I. I didn't know you'd be back," Jennie said, as if it offered an explanation. The man named Jack looked between them and back again at Jennie.

"Jen, who's this man? What's he doing here?" Greg suddenly put two and two together and figured out what was happening. He was being made a cuckold by his wife, right under his nose. His fist clenched in anger, his knuckles cracking as he did so. His breathing returned and was now causing him to take deep, unsteady breaths. He furrowed his brows and gritted his teeth. None of them spoke for awhile.

"How long?" Greg finally whispered, "How long have you been doing, _this_?" Greg asked, gesturing vaguely at everything.

"About a month. Since you started working late."  
  
"So while I've been out there risking my life, my own flesh for _us_ , you've been here happily in bed with this prick here?" Greg asked, his voice getting angrier with each word.

"Hey. Mate. I don't think that's fair to-" The man named Jack had started to speak but Greg's thundering voice cut him off, reducing him to a naked, quivering mess.

"I don't think you should still be here you cunt! Fuck off! Now! Before I arrest you for breaking and entering and indecency! Go on, get!" Greg hollered at the top of his lungs, hurling the butter knife at Jack. Now, of course Greg didn't aim at Jack but merely in his general direction. Being the biggest coward of all time, Jack ducked away and ran off with only a blanket that he had picked up off the floor into the night.

"And you," He growled deeply at Jennie "So you've been lying to me this whole time? I've been out there, getting shot at, getting tackled, getting beat just so I can earn some extra money for us to get a nice little place. And you just sit here and cheat. Now isn't that being grateful."  
  
"Oh don't blame this all on me Greg. You're never around anymore!" Jennie yelled back at him defensively. Greg had wanted to talk it out like reasonable adults, but Jennie screaming like a toddler made him lose his cool too.

"And you say it like it's my fault! I'm out there for _us_ , Jennie! Not shagging some young lass! How can you push this onto me?" Greg shouted back, attempting to outclass her in volume.

"You _know_ that I have needs! What am I supposed to do? Handle myself? Hah!"

"Well if you were such a tart you could've just told me! I would've just fucked your brains out every night before I went to bed! Ask and you shall receive isn't it?" Greg was absolutely furious now.

"You? Fuck my brains out? With the 2 minutes you last? Don't make me fucking laugh! Do you know what? You're just so fucking pathetic! And you don't even know it!" Jennie's words stabbed Greg in the heart like daggers. A searing pain made its presence known in Greg's chest. Greg's fists loosened due to the shock of Jennie's words.

"Come on Jennie, you don't mean that now do you?" Greg asked, his voice trembling slightly. Jennie snorted and huffed in disbelief.

"I can't believe you Greg. I really just can't fucking believe you. I'm just disgusted with you; how weak can you be? Something like this hurt you? Oh boo hoo hoo then sweetheart. Just fuck off and die or something, see if I care. All you'll be good for then is the insurance money. A little tear here, a small sob there and I'll have enough to buy my own house and have a little left over." Jennie smirked devilishly at Greg when she said this, clearly aware of the impact her words were having on Greg.

Greg couldn't believe his own ears. Sure her words had been snarky before, even he was guilty of a snide remark every now and then; but right here, right now, she was serious. Her voice was dripping with venom, like a snake about to go for the kill. Greg couldn't stand there and let her attack him any longer; if he did, he might've broken down, just as she wanted. She wanted him to break, to collapse, to show him she was right. Greg had too much pride in him to let that happen.

Being pulled back into the present by gravity, Greg felt himself falling. At first, he thought that it was his mind playing a game with him. But as the seconds slowed down, he could see the floor coming closer and closer to him, his legs no longer held his weight. A crash of metal on tiles and the thump of his body hitting the carpet was all Greg heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading the completed version on a one night binge, this is the obligatory 'stop and go get a drink and use the toilet' message from your friendly writer :D


	15. I'm Sorry!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Here's the chapter everyone's been waiting for :3 In other news, I received my first law essay back and got an A! So I've been pretty pumped and I hope that transcends into my work in the coming chapters :). Please feel free to comment as usual and to leave kudos if you liked the work (which I really hope you do!)
> 
> Second obligatory shoutout to cococrispy again for helping me here!

John spun around quickly, his military honed senses told him to prepare himself. As he turned, he saw Greg falling to the floor next to the sofa. John's mind immediately descended into a panic and he went into autopilot. John ran from where he was in the doorway back to Greg who was now clutching onto the sofa for dear life. Greg's breathing was deep and fast, his body was trembling slightly. John felt the adrenaline fill his veins to the brim. Experience told him this was a panic attack. His immediate priority was to calm Greg down.

"Greg. Greg. Listen to me Greg, you're having a panic attack right now, can you hear me? I need you to relax Greg, deep, slow breaths. Come on, in. And out. That's it." John tried to coax Greg into calming down using his doctor voice and he reached out, gently stroking Greg's knee. John continued giving Greg breathing instructions for a few minutes until his breathing returned to normal and the tension in his body was visibly gone. With John's help, Greg let go off the sofa and sat up, hunched over himself. He hung his head in his hands, unable to look up at John. It was too much for him to do so, too embarrassing. John sat down beside Greg, stroking his back gently. Straightening up, Greg pointed at a drawer in the kitchen. John followed his finger to the room and looked back at Greg with a puzzled look.

"Chocolates," Greg said, as if it explained everything. Throughout his years working in medicine, John knew better than to ask unnecessary questions. Getting up, he opened the drawer and was greeted by a circular metal box that was a bright shade of red. He looked around and didn't see anything else, and he was sure that this was the drawer that Greg had pointed to. Grabbing it, he returned to where Greg sat on the floor in a childlike position. John placed the box in Greg's hand and knelt down in front of him.

When Greg opened up the box, John caught a whiff of dark chocolate. A peek into it confirmed his suspicions. At first he thought Greg was diabetic and that he had become hypoglycaemic. But he had never heard of the man discuss this ever; and he had seen Greg with doughnuts and other treats from time to time. He usually snacked during stressful or busy cases. Once, he had even brought in a whole batch of freshly baked pumpkin bread when they were cracking an exceptionally tough case.

Greg popped one of the little spheres of chocolate into his mouth and screwed his eyes shut. As he chewed, his breathing evened out and he stopped shaking. Eventually he opened his eyes and asked John for another. John silently complied, not asking Greg any of the hundred questions he had running through his mind.

“When I start to get attacks, I take a sweet. My mum used to do that with me when I cried as a lad and it calms me down. I take these,” Greg explained as he shook the box, “when it’s really bad. Have one.” Greg held the box up at John, offering one. John gingerly picked up a piece, still feeling very guilty over the entire episode. At first, the sharp bitterness of the dark chocolate made John cringe and cough. Then as it melted, the sharp sweetness of the caramel oozed out and balanced the flavours together. It was rather enjoyable really.

“I eat this specific one when it’s really bad because it reminds me that behind the bitterness, there’s always something sweet that I can look forward to. But I only get it if I can tough out the dark,” Greg explained with a slight smile. "I was always a sucker for metaphors." John stayed silent for awhile. He didn't know what to say. Eventually he settled for nothing, knowing that actions spoke louder. John settled himself into Greg's side and wrapped his arms around Greg's torso, pulling him in tight. Greg let himself relax into John's arms, with some caution.

"Greg," John started meekly, "I'm really sorry. About everything. I'm so sorry for what I said, and for pushing you. I just, I," John sighed, shaking his head. He couldn't say anything to make it better, or to undo the hurt he had caused Greg. He was at a lost for words, "I was just so angry, and blinded by my emotions. I know it's no excuse but I never meant to hurt you Greg. Could you forgive me? I'm so, so sorry Greg." Tears almost welled up in John's eyes as he spoke, refusing to believe that he had hurt Greg. Greg turned to face John, wincing slightly in pain. He pulled John into a warm hug.

"Don't worry about it, I forgive you John. I can't blame you entirely, after all I was the one who left. I'm sorry about that too. I didn't mean to hurt you, alright? I was an idiot and I sort of deserved it." Greg planted a small kiss on John's forehead. John shook his head and buried it into the crook of Greg's neck. "How are you feeling now John?"

"Better. Calmer too. I really shouldn't have done that. Greg, that was unforgivable. I really didn't mean to hurt you." John whispered once again, mentally beating himself up over the whole incident. If only he hadn't been such a brute. He couldn't even control his own emotions. What a fucking idiot. "Enough about me. I'm not the priority here; you are. How do you feel? Where does it hurt?" John asked, putting his doctor's voice away. Greg attempted to wave him off nonchalantly, but as John shifted, Greg let out a small groan as John's hand had accidentally pressed into the bruise in his side.

"I'm fine. It was just a bump. Nothing major," Greg lied, not wanting John to feel anymore guilty than he already was. His face gave him away however as he winced once more when John applied some gentle pressure on his side.

"No, it wasn't. Greg, I shoved you. Hard. Let me at least have a look at it," John demanded, this time deciding to use his captain voice. Greg withheld his protests, not keen on starting a second argument. Obediently, he shifted over and lifted up his shirt, revealing a blue-black bruise. John gingerly touched it, examining his mark on Greg.

"I'm really sorry. Does it hurt Greg?" John asked. Greg shook his head.

"I'll be fine. I've been shot before, that was worse. Don't worry about me. Some ointment will do the trick tonight." John bent down and kissed the bruise on Greg's side. Greg smiled softly at John.

"Do you want to tell me what happened just now? Do you feel up to it? We could always discuss it another time if you'd like." John asked Greg. Greg looked down at the floor, pulling his shirt down to cover up again.

"It's nothing. Don't worry."  
  
"Greg, I know you just had a panic attack. That isn't nothing. Come on, tell me. The least I could do for you is not trigger it again since I'm a complete dickhead." John tried to make it sound like a joke and an apology all at the same time. He couldn't stop apologising to Greg. Greg rolled his eyes and ran his hands through John's hair.

"You're not a dickhead. A wanker maybe, but not a dickhead," Greg let his hand run down John's cheek to his chin, "But, if you insist, I'll tell you." Greg took a deep breath in and relaxed himself. "So, what you said earlier just, you know, brought back some memories from a few years ago. When I caught Jennie with another bloke the first time, she said similar things. 'You're pathetic. You disgust me.' That sort of things. It just, reminded me of how it felt all over again, like I had done something wrong, that I should be the one to blame. Back then she complained that we didn't have enough sex and that's why it was okay for her to seek it elsewhere. Now of course I know that's an utter pile of bull, but whatever you said was justified. Somewhat. I did fuck up, and it is my fault this time. So-" Greg didn't manage to finish his sentence as John cut him off.

"Greg, no, listen. No matter what you did, what you made me feel, how I reacted and what I did was not justifiable. And it isn't your fault. You're a good man, I know that. You would never do anything unless you felt like you had a good reason. I was just too blind and stupid to see that." John grabbed Greg's hand and gave it a small squeeze.

"You're not stupid. Blind maybe, since you still think I'm good. But not stupid." The two of them laughed a little bit. The awkwardness was fading, as was the ache in Greg's side. "Since we're both here sharing, I think I owe you an explanation then." Greg offered.

"You owe me nothing. I only want you to share if you feel like it, and if you feel like you can trust me," John replied.

"And I want to. I really do."  
  
"So do it then." John smiled at the policeman.

"So," Greg cleared his throat as he began, "you're right. I did have reasons for leaving you that night. When you said you thought you were falling in love, it really freaked me out. After everything with Tom, and Jennie, and just, well, everything, I felt like I was broken. I still think I'm broken. And you're this amazing, bad ass, army-doctor man who runs around solving murders with the most irritating bloke in London. And you could have anyone, literally any man could be yours and he would be so lucky. But you chose me, you chose to respond to me when I was drunk, you chose to help me with things that I never thought I could do and you even chose to sleep with me. It was all too much for me. I just couldn't fathom that I was really getting the good stuff. I'm not someone that you love John. And I'm not someone who deserves it either, especially not from you. I think you could do so, so much better that a greying, ugly, out of shape, 47 year old man. I don't think I deserve you John."

Greg bit his lip as he finished. It was awkward for him to express himself like that. He hadn't much experience with feelings and emotion. As a lad, people told him to toughen up when he tried to express himself. With Jennie, she said he wasn't a "real man" and that he was a wimp. He could only imagine how John would react.

"Greg. Don't say all that about yourself. Yes, I could have so many other men, but who could live up to you? You may look down on yourself, but what you see is a disillusionment. You see an old, undesirable man; but I see you as a matured, kind, soft, and gentle soul. You can brighten up a room without even knowing it. Do you know how many times you've lifted everyone's spirits just by walking in? Have you even looked at Donovan's face when you enter? She gets excited to work. And for the record, you're not ugly, Greg. I absolutely forbid you from referring to yourself like that. You are absolutely perfect. Frankly, your handsomeness should be illegal. It's really unfair you know." John laughed. Greg started blushing and had to look down to hide it.

"You really have a mouth of honey don't you. Always saying the sweetest things." Greg fumbled with his words.

"Oh and Greg," John added. At the sound of his name, the policeman looked up, "You're wrong you know," Greg looked at him, puzzled, "You do deserve love. You always do. You've been hurt and I know, but I promise from here on out, I will never hurt you like that. I want to love you Greg. I choose you." John reached his hand out, cupping the gorgeous detective inspector’s face in his palm. Pulling Greg down, John planted a very soft kiss on his lips. Light, pure, and sweet. Somewhere deep inside of him, Greg suddenly felt something click. The emotion John had showed, staying with him, helping him, wanting to listen to him, all the sweet words he had said, they were all genuine words, genuine feelings, genuine gestures. They weren’t calculated and designed to hook Greg on; John really did care about him.

“Do, do you really mean that? Everything you’ve just said?” Greg asked, wanting to be sure. Greg’s question threw John off. John hadn’t registered how his words had come out and how they could be interpreted. John was about to brush it off with a quick “but of course” when a small voice in the back of his head told him that saying that was a lie. He hadn’t said all of that because he was trying to make Greg feel better, or to be flirty. He said it because he believed it; and he believed it because Greg was the man that he loved.

“Yes I do Greg. I believe that with all my heart, and all my heart belongs to you now.” John drew small circles around Greg's stubbly cheek, enjoying the warmth radiating from his skin. Greg smiled warmly at John, staying silent and enjoying the atmosphere. There was electricity in the air; the feeling of John's hand on his cheek made Greg giddy with excitement. It was like being a child at a candy store, and Greg had found the treat he wanted. Adjusting himself, Greg sat upright and reached over to pull John in for another kiss. John's lips were soft and inviting, tasting faintly of the beer he had earlier. Greg allowed his tongue to slip deep into John's mouth, his fingers faintly caressing the back of the doctor's ears.

Crossing his leg over John, Greg straddled John's hips, letting his body weigh down on the small man. Greg tilted his head, deepening the kiss into John's face. He felt his heart flutter when John started reciprocating his movements, mirroring the movement of Greg's lips. John's hand snaked its way behind Greg's cheek to the nape of his neck, gently massaging the man. Using the leverage he had, John pulled down on Greg's head, forcing the officer to kiss him more deeply. Greg let out a low moan. It was the perfect pitch to John's ears, reverberating in his throat. The feeling of Greg's tongue exploring around his mouth made him unhinge himself, releasing all control, allowing Greg to have full ownership of him and his movements, his body, his heart.

The detective inspector pulled away gently, leaving his hand on John's face and touching his forehead to the doctor's. They both breathed deeply and softly, but in the silence of the night, they were deafeningly loud. Greg's face was illuminated by both the kitchen lights and the slivers of moonlight that danced their way into the living room. Beautiful, John thought to himself.

"Is this ok?" Greg whispered hoarsely. His voice was deep and raspy, as it always was when he whispered. Greg rarely whispered, and whenever he did, John always made sure to enjoy it. John put on a glowing smile for Greg.

"Yeah. More than ok really." Greg tickled the back of John's ears, eliciting a giggle from John. Lestrade returned it with a hearty chuckle of his own. "I like it when you do that," John whispered, biting his lip.

"Do what exactly?" Greg asked, leaning in closer. He was basically hovering beside John's ear. His breath gently stroked John's earlobe. John felt himself being pressed closer into the side of the sofa. Lestrade stuck his tongue out slightly and licked John on the ear, following up with a gentle and sweet nibble of his earlobe. Greg was feeling rather playful at this very moment, he was only hoping that he could bring John over to his side too.

"Just, that. You being you, in general," John managed to choke out, his breathing becoming unruly when he felt Lestrade's teeth on his flesh. "It's very arousing whenever you take control Greg." John slid his hand up Greg's neck into his tousled, grey hair. Greg travelled from John's ear down his neck, leaving gentle bites and kisses as he trailed southwards. Landing on his collarbone, Greg licked John's sensitive skin. He felt the heat rising up from John's flushed face, sucking ever so gently on the man below him. John let out a small whimper of pleasure, enjoying the cooling sensation that Lestrade's saliva left him with. Greg smelt like watermelon from his soap. John inhaled the scent greedily, eager to get more. The desperate doctor started pawing at the policeman's neck, begging for him to stop with the teasing.

"Impatient now, are we?" Greg asked coyly, teeth still scraping John's skin.

"Could you maybe move it along Detective Inspector? Please?" John whined, unable to control himself. He wanted Lestrade. After so long, it felt good to have the man in his arms again. Greg's strong body on him was a comforting feeling; John hadn't realised just how starved of it he had been.

"Well where would you like me to move it to, Doctor?" Greg pulled back up, facing John. He playfully flicked John's nose, knowing that John liked that. John leaned in to kiss Greg's cheek lightly.

"I've showed you my room, why don't you show me yours?" John whispered, as if he were afraid people would hear them. Greg smirked dirtily, his face giving it all away. It was an extremely arousing sight for John to see Greg all raring and ready to go. He had that hungry and desperate look in his eyes again, something John loved in Greg, it made John feel special. One day he'd tell Greg about that. Maybe tonight.

"Well come along then."


	16. Let's Enjoy This

Greg slid his hands underneath John's thighs, resting his palms on John's hamstrings, and bracing himself. John immediately understood what Lestrade wanted to do and complied, wrapping his arms around Greg's neck and his legs around Greg's torso. Greg knelt down, steadying himself. Using his shoulders and his arms Greg lifted John up, rising up solidly, first on one knee, then the other. Once he had maintained his balance, Greg then shifted his weight onto one leg, pushing himself and John straight upwards and then lifted his other leg. Stumbling slightly at the top, Greg managed to hold John in the air. Their foreheads were touching and John's eyes met with Lestrade. The piercing blue eyes so rarely made direct contact with him, but now that they did, Greg felt the intensity of the staring pumping his blood around his body. It went everywhere, his legs, his arms, his head, and most importantly, below the waist.

"This would be so much hotter if you were in uniform," John whispered, his breathing laboured and aroused. The doctor leaned in and planted a wet kiss on Lestrade's neck.

"I'll keep that in mind then doctor. Maybe next time?" Greg flirted back unabashedly. Biting his lip seductively, he used his palm to gently stroke John's leg. John was his prisoner now, in his grasp and unable to move, Lestrade was free to use him as he saw fit. Right now, he felt it fit to tease the man he was carrying. John squirmed and wiggled in his arms, never letting go. It was like seeing a koala latched firmly onto the last available eucalyptus tree available. Despite John's added weight, Greg managed to find his balance and carried him into his bedroom.

Throwing John onto the bed roughly, Greg climbed on top of him, weighing him down and peppering his face with quick, hungry kisses. John let his hands wander into the sea of silver that was Lestrade's head, tugging gently at Greg like a dog. Greg allowed himself to be pulled away from the delicious man that he was savouring and looked John in the eyes. Greg's eyes were the colour of chocolate. John had only just noticed this adorable feature. He thought of how fitting it was for Greg. A sweet feature for a sweet man.

"Talk to me John. What's going on inside that head?" Greg asked warmly, grabbing John's hand and kissing it.

"I want us to enjoy this," John replied meekly. He hoped he didn't sound stupid to Greg. He probably sounded whiny, demanding, and entitled. He looked away almost immediately after he had suggested it, but Greg's warm hand gently pulled him back. His eyes met Greg's. It was a comforting feeling.

"I am enjoying this, are you not? We can stop if you want. Just tell me what to do John. I'll listen to you, I always will," Greg said with a soft smile. John bit his lower lip, hesitating a little bit.

"No, no. I'm enjoying this too. And I definitely like where this is headed. But, I'd like us to slow down. Savour it, all of it, do you get what I mean?" John asked meekly. Greg smiled and leaned in to take John's lips in his. Parting away from the kiss, but leaving his lips, Greg answered him hoarsely.

"I think I'd like that very much John," Greg finished with another kiss on John's temple, "What exactly would you like us to do John? Tell me." Greg's voice was all at once seductive, dominating, gentle, and inquisitive. It was an earth shattering combination for John.

"I'd like you to make love to me Greg. Slowly. Take your time. I want to feel every part of you, get to know all of you. I don't want to lose you again," John purred. Another kiss from Greg, this time on John's nose.

"Consider it done John." Greg started putting his lips on John's once more. This time however, they were slow and gentle, lacking all of the possessive, demanding aggression of his previous kisses. He allowed John to lead, merely copying his movements. Using his right hand, he pulled John's wrist up over his head and held it there. John's other hand remained entrenched in Greg's hair, running his fingers through it. Lestrade felt John's tongue pushing against his lips, asking to be allowed in. Parting his lips, he granted the man permission and let his lover run his tongue around his mouth, exploring every nook and cranny of it. Greg didn't fight John for dominance, but rather used his own tongue to nudge John's around, giving him a tour.

Greg pulled away teasingly, making John reach out for him. With a playful laugh, Greg leaned back down, kissing John's jawline and stopping at his throat. Licking downwards in a straight line, Greg blew cold air onto the surface of John's skin, making the other man thrust his hips up in pleasure. Reaching the tip of his sternum, Greg stopped and returned to John's face and nibble his ears lightly. John used his left hand to push at Lestrade's side, urging the older man to roll over. Greg obediently complied and allowed the weight of his body to tumble to the side, pulling John up and on top with his hands. Grasping John's sides firmly, Greg steadied the doctor so that he was straddling Greg's hips.

John started moving his hips in a grinding motion, allowing his erection to rub against Greg's crotch erotically. The soft fabric provided extra friction for the two of them, causing them to let out simultaneous moans of joy. Removing his hands from Greg's sides, John let his palms rest on Lestrade's shoulders, squeezing and massaging them lovingly. He lowered his face towards Greg's, hovering an inch above, and planted a quick kiss on Greg's forehead before moving down to boop the detective's nose. This elicited a small chuckle from Greg and John caught his laughter in a deep kiss. Moving his hands from Greg's shoulders, John cupped the man's face in his hands, enjoying the rough feeling of his unshaved scruff on his hands.

John sat up straight, running his hands back downwards to Greg's chest. Though the material of his hoodie was fairly thick, it was unmistakable how solid Lestrade's chest felt. John bit his lips as his mind painted a naughty picture for his personal viewing, his erection jumping a little bit at the fresh view. Continuing further south, John let his hands run over Greg's abdomen, the heat rising from underneath his clothing.

"Can I take this off?" John asked, tugging on Greg's hoodie. Greg grinned and sat up.

"If you would be so kind as to do the honours doctor," Greg replied, leaning in to kiss John once more. Lestrade is a sodding amazing kisser, John thought to himself as the man pulled away. John felt like his breath was being taken away each time Greg stopped kissing him. It was an unhealthy addiction, but John couldn't care less. Greedily reaching for Lestrade's clothes, he pulled the hoodie up. Greg lifted his arms to ease John's job, feeling freer as a layer of clothing was shed. Saving John another request, Lestrade reached back and grabbed the neckline of his white v neck, pulling it up. John hurriedly grabbed the hem of Lestrade's shirt, pushing it up over Greg's handsome face. He was eager to get the man's clothes off. The less he wore, the better.

Throwing it aside, Greg leaned backwards and propped himself up on his elbows, allowing John a better view. He held his breath and bit his lip in anticipation as John drank in the sight of the half-naked police officer in front of him. With shaking hands, John let his palms rest on Lestrade's slightly furry body. Running his hands up and down, John appreciated every inch of the bare torso presented to him. Greg had a light dusting of chest hair that had started going grey and an equally fuzzy abdomen. John could see that the detective once had abs, but the amount of doughnuts he had over the years probably undid the hard work. Greg was in wonderful shape however, he had managed to keep fairly fit by running all around London chasing (or being chased by) murderers.

"Wow," John allowed himself to sigh the word out appreciatively. Greg's faced flushed red.

"Yeah, I know. I've seen better days. I'm just an old man now. Hope you're still into it though," Greg joked self-depreciatingly, grinning at John wryly. John shook his head in disbelief, leaning down to give Greg a passionate kiss on the lips.

"Greg, you're perfect, alright? You don't need to look like a porn star to feel that you're worth something, ok? I think you're extremely handsome, with a killer body that's just a nice add on. Plus, your personality is what makes you so attractive," John chided him lovingly, using his hands to massage Greg's chest as he did. Greg blushed a little bit, not being very used to hearing such sweet words about himself. John pushed Greg down gently onto the bed, his hand sliding down Greg's abdomen.

"Now just lie back, relax, and enjoy this," John commanded. Greg nodded his head and closed his eyes, letting a wave of relaxation sweep over him. John used his knuckles to stroke Lestrade's face before leaning down to kiss the man on his lips, making his way down Greg's throat, his chest and drawing a straight line down his navel, using Greg's happy trail as a guide. Greg moved his hands from his side, up to John's head, holding him lightly and guiding John around. Greg pulled John back up to face him and pecked him on the cheek.

"Let's get my jumper off you yeah?" Greg whispered seductively, stroking John's jaw line. John nodded silently and started pulling at the fabric. Greg helped him to push it out from below. Pulling it up and over his head, John threw it to the side, returning his attention to the policeman. Greg had allowed his hands to rest on John's body, exploring the muscular torso that had been revealed. John was completely smooth, unlike himself, and lacked the tan that Lestrade had. It had been awhile since his discharge from the army, but John clearly kept himself fit. John wiggled sideways and repositioned them so that they were completely flat on the bed rather that dangling halfway off it.

Greg's hands were warm and inviting. It was a nice change from the cold weather. John started to move his hips again, grinding against Lestrade. While teasing the man, he bit his lip seductively and used a finger to pinch one of Greg's nipples, eliciting a series of moans from him. Using his free hand, John snaked down to Greg's bulging crotch and started pawing at it, groping and fondling the handsome fox underneath him. Without saying anything, John grabbed the waistband of Greg's trousers and started to pull them off. Lestrade lifted his hips to make the job easier for John. To John's surprise (and delight), he wasn't wearing any underwear and his straining cock popped right out. Greg kicked off his trousers and settled back in, trying to relax as John hungrily took in the sight of his naked body. Greg started blushing.

"It's been awhile since anyone's seen me like this," Greg said. The thought of having sex with someone else after so long aroused Greg greatly and his erection jumped at the thought. John placed his hand on Greg's firm member, giving him several good strokes.

"I saw this little fellow last week. Doesn't that count?" John asked teasingly, running circles around Greg's cockhead. Greg closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. He allowed himself to release a low groan of pleasure, encouraging John.

"I meant seeing me like this. Completely naked. I can't remember when was the last time I had sex with someone else." Greg admitted, touching John's arm. Greg gave the soldier's solid bicep a gentle squeeze, showing his affection for the man.

"Well, we could do this every night if you'd like. I don't mind too much," John said, chuckling. He leaned forward to kiss the centre of Lestrade's chest, still fondling his partner's penis in his hand. He suddenly noticed what was on Greg's right arm and reached over.

"What's this now detective inspector?" John asked curiously, gripping Greg's bicep.

"Its a police shield. I got it when I joined the force. I was really excited about it, some of the blokes teased me about it in the locker rooms too," Greg replied with a smile. Those were happier days for him, despite the workload. John nodded appreciatively.

"Well, let me thank you for your service then detective." John scooched backwards and lowered his head to Greg's crotch. He took Greg's erection into his mouth with one big gulp and started sucking. It felt amazing to have Greg's erection in his mouth again. Firm, warm and throbbing. It was just what John had been craving. Bobbing his head up and down, John licked the length of Lestrade's hard prick and used his tongue to tickle his sensitive underside. John made sure to get plenty of saliva onto Greg's cock to give him a nice sloppy blowjob, just as he deserved. Greg grabbed the headboard, letting out a low, primal groan. His hips bucked and thrusted upwards, shoving his cock deeper into John's mouth.

John happily received his package, relaxing his throat to take more of Greg in. John pulled back up to Greg's cockhead and used his lips to slowly slide the man's foreskin over the sensitive head. Running his tongue in circles to stimulate Greg further, John used his hand to give Greg several good strokes. The combination of John's wet mouth and the pressure of his hand was almost too much for Greg who had to cry out. John recognised this and pulled off, slowing his strokes so as to allow Greg to recover a little.

"You have a lovely cock Greg. Thick and hard, just the way I like it." John teased as his hands went further south, cupping and fondling Greg's balls. Greg inhaled sharply, enjoying the experience immensely.

"You really do know how to make a man happy lad," Greg said as he tugged on John's hair. John returned Greg's erection to his mouth, happily sucking away. Using a slower pace this time, John slurped and brushed his teeth against Greg's dick, making sure not to hurt him. Greg suddenly sat up and pushed John off.

"I can't," Greg said, panting, "I can't hold on any longer. Let's switch." Greg's words stumbled out of him. The detective sounded like he had just run a mile, panting and heaving. He was completely out of breath. John merely smiled at him.

"Anything you say papa," John replied with a cheeky wink. Greg thought back to the last time he and John had gotten intimate, his erection bobbing at the thought. That episode was a favourite of his in the past week. Greg sat back against the headboard, waiting for John to strip naked. John peeled his joggers off, kicking them off onto the floor. Greg hadn't given him any underwear so he had to go commando, not that Greg was complaining right now. The less he wore, the faster he was naked. The faster John was naked, the happier Lestrade was. eled his joggers off, kicking them off onto the floor. Greg hadn't

John crawled over towards Greg, his erection already at full mast and leaking slightly. Greg reached out greedily and pulled John closer to him, hands landing on John's hips. John's pale skin felt fiery hot to Greg's touch, his arousal spreading heat throughout his body. Greg reached behind, grasping and squeezing John's arse, using one of his fingers to run over John's hole, teasing him. John threw his head back and let out sounds of pleasure. The detective used his other hand to start fondling the doctor's cock, giving him a few short strokes and tickling his balls. Greg wanted to make John enjoy the episode, to prolong his excitement.

Gingerly, he reached out to lick the length of John's hard cock. It wasn't anywhere near the thickness of Greg, but his length fared quite nicely, though Greg still won that battle but by a smaller margin. John shivered at the feeling of Greg's tongue on his penis, whimpering and fidgeting in his grasp.

"How does that feel to you lad?" Greg asked seductively, allowing his jawline to scrape the insides of John's thighs. The roughness of Greg's stubble generated friction for John's sensitive legs, making him groan.

  
"Good, really good papa. Suck me? Please?" John asked, slightly childishly. Greg grinned at him and planted a small kiss on John's exposed cockhead. The salty fluid of John's precum stained his lips, giving them a glossy shine.

"Of course sweetheart," Greg replied before taking John into his mouth. Greg greedily sucked on John's hard cock, licking and sliding his tongue about the flesh. Greg used his hands to rock John's hips back and forth, allowing himself to take in more of the man's hard cock down his throat. John moaned loudly as Greg blew him, not caring who heard. One of his hands went to Greg's hair, grasping it possessively. Looking up, Greg made eye contact with John as he pulled off to lick the doctor's penis. He went up and down the length of the younger man's dick, stopping at the top to stimulate the very sensitive head.

Reaching down further below, Greg first took one testicle into his mouth, then the other. Letting John's cock rest decoratively on his face, Greg used his tongue to explore the topography of his lover's scrotum, sending waves of shocking pleasure to John. John pulled roughly on Greg's hair, indicating his approval. Greg pulled off abruptly, returning his mouth onto John's inviting cock. More precum was leaking out now. John was obviously very excited to be playing with Lestrade again. Greg happily lapped up John's juices, unable to get enough. Plunging back down, Greg took all of John's prick into his mouth and managed to fit some of it into his throat.

"Fuuuuuuuuck, Greg you better not stop. Oh god." Greg reached behind John and used one of his fingers to prod John's waiting hole. This elicited a yelp of excitement from John and Greg pulled off. John's dick was slick with Greg's saliva and his own precum, there was a little bit on Greg's cheek too. Pulling John down onto his lap, Lestrade brought his lips to the soldier's and gave him a deep kiss. The handsome detective was very aware of how their bodies felt, touching each other so intimately. Skin on skin, he felt arousal taking over his mind, he was no longer in control of it. Greg maneuvered his head back down to John's neck, biting and sucking on the tight skin that he loved.

"I'd like to fuck you tonight," Greg said hoarsely, biting on John's shoulder.

"I thought you'd never ask," John replied, running his hands up and down Greg's tanned back, "Do you have a condom around?" Greg pulled off and nodded, reaching over to the bedside table and rummaging through the drawer. He pulled a box of rubbers out and set them on the table, along with a red coloured bottle of lube. John smiled cheekily when he saw what Lestrade had prepared.

"And you said you weren't trying to get inside my pants," John teased Greg childishly. Greg rolled his eyes at John.

"Who said I had them ready for you?" Greg deadpanned back, his grin giving it all away. John gave him a sad, pouty look, to Greg's amusement. "Aw John, I'm only teasing. I could never get with anybody else. You're my one and only," Greg cooed, kissing him reassuringly. John smiled back stupidly.

"Should we continue then? With the uh, thing." John felt like a little schoolboy, excited and nervous at the same time. It definitely wasn't his first time, oh no. Johnny boy was a little bit of a whore, if he did say so himself. But Greg had this energy that made him feel butterflies in his stomach. It was like his first time all over again.

"Yes. Let's." Greg used his hips to push John's body over, the man landing square on his back on the bed. Greg pulled out one of the square, silver foil packets and tore it open. He pinched the tip of the condom and slid it down his pulsing cock. He then grabbed the lube and squeezed a good handful of it out onto his palm, rubbing it around to warm it up. The detective lathered his erection with the lube, making sure it was slick and smooth for John's comfort. Crawling back over the doctor, Greg stared into John's blue eyes.

"How do you want me? Doggy? Or plain old vanilla?" Greg asked John, lovingly stroking his cock with his right hand.

"Just like this. I want to see you fucking me," John replied, running his hands up and down Greg's well toned chest as the man rubbed the doctor's cock. Greg nodded and lifted John's legs up, exposing John's arse to the air. Squeezing more lube out, Greg generously applied it onto his fingers and onto John's hole. The ample amount of lubricant made the job of sliding his fingers in much easier. That and John's experience with bottoming of course. The doctor made himself relax, allowing Greg to put in one finger, then a second. Before long, Greg had three fingers inside of John, stretching him wide in anticipation for his cock. John had been moaning loudly the entire time, greedily taking in Greg's fingers. John whimpered incoherently, but it was clear enough for Greg to know what John wanted.

With one smooth swoop, Greg pulled his fingers out of John, leaving him feeling empty again. Greg leaned down to kiss John's neck and cheek, leaving small bites on the small man below him. Lestrade gave himself a few strokes for luck and lined his fat cockhead up with John's arse. Looking at John once again for confirmation, he pushed a little at John's pert arsehole and waited for a response. John licked his lips greedily and stared at the handsome man on top of him, feeling the slight pressure created by the man's genitals against his body. John nodded feverishly, desperate for Greg to fill him.

With John's green light, Greg pushed his cock into the soldier, slowly and steadily. John felt the familiar and expected sensation of pressure and friction inside of him and moaned out loud, allowing his entire body to relax and surrender itself to Greg's control. John was a rather skilled bottom and he managed to combine his relaxation with some squeezing of the muscles in his arse, allowing his body to grip and release Greg's cock.

The pressure and the sensations that washed over Greg's sensitive cock couldn't be measured in words. Greg himself could barely formulate coherent sentences, being reduced to a series of happy blabbering and moaning. His hands went to grip John's hips, allowing for some stability as he sank deeper and deeper into John. John's face was paralysed with pleasure, going numb with a stupid grin plastered over his face. Greg licked his lips hungrily, wanting to thrust wildly into John; but John had wanted to take this slow and easy, he wanted them to enjoy it. Greg couldn't say no to the little man's wishes, his heart just couldn't bear that.

Greg leaned down to kiss John's chest, working his way up to John's lips. The policeman teased his partner, hovering over his face and leaving his lips just out of reach for the tiny doctor.

"Is this okay for you?" Greg asked, kissing John's cheek once.

"Yeah, it is. Keep going. Are you almost all in?"   
  
"John do you really think I'm that small?" Greg asked arrogantly, shoving another inch or so into John just to prove his point. John groaned and yelped with a mix of pleasure and surprise, glaring at Lestrade.

"Fuck you detective," John snapped playfully, sticking his tongue out.

"No no, the fucking is my job. You just have to lay there and let me do it to you." Greg kissed John once more, pulling the man's lower lip seductively. John's hand's went up to Greg's head, weaving through his silver hair. Greg gave himself another slight push, and he felt his skin come into contact with John's again. John felt full, which was anticipated. Lestrade's body hair tickled the skin of his arse and his balls, signalling to him that the detective was fully inside him now. Greg rocked his hips side to side, allowing his cock to stretch John out slightly.

"You're so tight, God. It's fucking amazing," Greg declared, slapping John's buttcheek firmly. John let a whimper escape his lips when Greg shimmied his hips, he didn't think he could hold Greg in any longer. While the man wasn't the biggest bloke on the block, John couldn't deny that the silver fox had a very thick tool on him.

"You're just big papa," John replied cheekily. Greg grinned wryly, getting more aroused. John had a filthy mouth on him and Greg enjoyed that very much. Pulling out slightly, Greg shifted his hands to beside John, allowing him more stability. John felt a sudden sense of emptiness, just a fleeting moment of it. Before John was able to register what had just happened, Greg thrust his cock back into John and this cause the man to howl with pleasure and surprise. The sounds coming out from John's mouth made Greg grin wickedly.

"Yeah, you like that lad? Feeling my cock slide in and out of you?" Greg started to let his mouth ramble. He tended to say some very kinky things when he was aroused, and this was easy to achieve with John around.

"Yes papa," John whimpered, gripping the bedsheets forcefully. Greg repeated his motions, withdrawing slightly and then sliding his erection back inside John. Eventually he picked up a rhythm and John managed to sync with him, clenching his arse each time Lestrade slid himself into John. As promised, Greg went slowly and gently, allowing John to savour each stroke. Greg himself found that this was all at once more pleasurable and fulfilling for him. He felt in control, like he could last longer. This was way better than whatever he had done with his ex-wife. John's experience and proactiveness milked the pleasure out of Greg's erection.

The bed creaked as he slowly fucked John, threatening to give way. Greg however, knew from experience that the furniture was a lot more sturdy than it sounded. The sounds of skin slapping skin punctured the silent night, coming at a steady pace. Greg leaned down to kiss John, savouring the taste of the man in his mouth. John released one hand and let it run up and down Lestrade's body, admiring the tight torso that the policeman had. Suddenly, Greg slid into John at an angle and managed to hit the doctor's prostate. This led John to give Lestrade a loud moan of appreciation. Greg pulled away, lifting John's legs up over his shoulders to allow himself a better angle.

John licked his lips in anticipation, he knew what was coming and he was very much looking forward to it. Greg steadied himself with the added weight and braced John's hips. Making eye contact, the two men admired each other for a while. Greg took in the sight of the naked doctor underneath him on his bed, savouring the view that he had been graced with. John on the other hand, focused his attention on Greg's handsome face, laced with lust and desire. The carnal look on Lestrade's face suited his greying hair and made John even more aroused. Adjusting his position and keeping his balance, Greg hovered above John, a mere inch away from the man's face.

"Try not to scream too much yeah?" Greg teased before kissing John sweetly. John merely nodded obediently, eager to feel Greg making love to him. Greg lowered his body down, gently allowing it to rest on John. John could feel every muscle of Greg's body against his, the detective's furry chest tickling him. Greg took John's lips into a kiss, weighing down further on him. John was completely trapped under the warm detective, unable to move. The thought of being dominated by Greg and letting him take control was exhilarating for John. The inspector had the aura of an alpha male and John happily lapped it up.

Using only his hips, Lestrade now made short, slow thrusts into John's arse. Pulling out less than an inch, and then making his way back in, Greg went at a snail's pace, promising John a blissful fuck. Greg's sweaty body slid up and down John's equally slick torso, stomach rubbing up against John's cock. The double sensation was overwhelming for John who was reduced to mere whimpering and stammering. The only thing John managed to do was to wrap his limbs around Lestrade, hugging him tightly like a bear. In this position, Greg managed to hit John's prostate more often than not and it thrilled the doctor. Breaking apart the kiss, Greg looked at John lustfully.

"Do you like that lad? You like feeling daddy's cock in you? I'm so close to cumming John. Do you want me to cum in you? Fill you up with my juice?" Greg bit on John's earlobe as he whispered hoarsely to the man. Greg was close. Very close. He could feel his balls tightening, his cock demanding release. It didn't last as long as Greg had wanted it to but he had abstained from even touching himself since their last encounter. Hearing Greg's naughty words turned John on even more. He hadn't even realised how close to orgasm he was himself.

"Yes daddy. Fuck me harder please, fuck your cum right into me." John closed his eyes and let himself moan in pleasure. Fuck it if the neighbours heard. If they had any sense, they'd be taking lessons from Greg. John's words encouraged Greg who sped up his strokes, hitting John's arse hard. The creaking of the bed got louder and more violent with each thrust by the policeman, as did John's whimpering and begging.

With one final thrust, Greg felt his orgasm explode inside of John's ass. Pleasure overwhelmed him and his body lost all support. Gravity meant nothing to him. Greg collapsed onto John, feeling like jelly. Greg's skin made contact with every inch of John's hot, flushed body. The sensations overwhelmed Greg's mind and fogged his thinking. John reached in between them and grabbed his own cock, jerking it as hard and as fast as he could with their bodies sandwiching it. Fortunately, the pressure gave John enough friction to climax and his cum came spurting out, covering their chests with white semen. As he climaxed, he pulled Greg into a passionate and sloppy kiss. Greg hadn't stopped moving his hips, though now he was back to thrusting into John at a snail's pace. When John's orgasm fully subsided after two or three spurts, Greg stopped fucking John and laid down to catch his breath. His silver head fell next to John's and he closed his eyes, savouring the feeling that coursed through him at that moment in time.

  
John's hand stroked Greg's back soothingly, enjoying the muscular body of the policeman. The feeling of Greg weighing down on his body was one of security, something John thoroughly enjoyed. John felt his breathing sync with Greg's intimately and he closed his eyes in bliss.


End file.
